


A bleeding star

by BecauseBraime



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, not Dany friendly, screw d&d
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 53,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22509850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseBraime/pseuds/BecauseBraime
Summary: Yet another rewrite to season 8, but this is a Braime story.  Too bad season 8 was only 3.5 episodes.  Canon through most of 8x02.  The only non-canon element through 8x02 is Cersei's absurd, fake pregnancy.  The Long Night is upon Winterfell and the world needs its heroes.  Where do Jaime and Brienne fit in?
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 97
Kudos: 199





	1. Bran I

**Author's Note:**

> Much of 8x03 could apply to this chapter, but I do not accept the Knight king had no kills, Arya's Air Jordan leap over all generals/wights to get to the Night King, and the blatant disregard for just how many were lost. I'm not great with battle scenes so this chapter is short with reference to how long the battle was raging. Warning: the non-canon major death here is Jon Snow. Sorry Jon snow fans! I have no issue with him and it was purely a creative choice to humanize Arya.

The battle raged for what could have been hour or days. Time no longer held meaning as the darkness blotted out the light of day. Their forces had depleted only to see themselves renewed with a different eye color and unhuman ferocity. From Bran’s position in the night sky, he approximated two-thirds of their army had seen their light leave this world only to awaken with a thirst for shared death with those still amongst the ranks of the living. Winterfell’s hope for life dimming as the Knight King’s ranks increased.  
From behind the army of the dead’s lines, the Night King and his generals pushed towards the Godswood. 

Only moments before, Rhaegal had skidded to the earth leaving Jon helpless to fend off the hordes of dead men swarming him. Daenerys had abandoned her pursuit of the Knight King after striking him from the undead Viserion in order come to Jon’s aid. Despite clearing most of the dead from Jon’s vicinity, throngs of undead clambered onto Drogon forcing him to take flight back into the night sky. Within moments, Daenerys reached Jon and clung to him in fear as she took in the site of burning dead men around them. 

The wights not consumed by dragon flames climbed atop Drogon while stabbing him with swords and spears, jagged nails, and piercing teeth. From below, Ser Jorah and a group of the living came to the aid of Jon and Daenerys as they now found themselves in the open field without protection from the living dragons. Daenerys looked between Ser Jorah, the group of living soldiers, and Jon before her attention was caught by the site of the Night King and his generals nearing the Godswood. The site was horrific as the easily mowed down anything living from their path. With an urging look towards the Godswood, Daenerys pushed Jon towards the King of the undead as Ser Jorah and their remaining group turned to face another onslaught of dead men charging from the opposite direction. 

Bran’s black eyes darted across the night sky trying desperately to spot the two living dragons or their undead brother. In the distance, he could hear the cries of Rhaegal and Viserion coming together in battle while Drogon shook the remaining dead from his body; urging himself further into the night sky. 

Somewhere in the recesses of Bran’s mind, he knew he should feel fear. He knew he should feel empathy as the sound of dying men reached his ears. He knew the smell of death should see the contents of his stomach purged from its host’s body. But Bran wasn’t Bran anymore. He was the three-eyed raven and all he could focus on was tracking the progress of two figures charging towards the Godswood at the back of the Night King’s generals. From his position in the night sky, Bran could see his body’s precarious position in the Godswood as Theon’s arrows brought down wight after wight until there were no more arrows. Theon reached for his final arrow, only to grab at air. 

No sooner than Theon found himself without arrows and surrounded by wights, the army seemed to take pause as an eerie silence fell over the Godswood. Slowly, the wights turned and stepped back as undead eyes landed on their leader. The Knight King and his generals rounded the corner, but the two figures Bran had been monitoring were steps behind, swords drawn, and ready to do whatever it took to reach Bran’s motionless body. Arya and Jon. 

I need to remember. I need to remember the salt and smoke. The bleeding star. The dragon has three heads.

In a flash to his earlier vision, Bran stood yards from a port looking out onto the sea of burning ships. The vision before him eerily similar to that which he was witnessing at Winterfell where his body awaited the prophecy’s conclusion. The sound of dying men permeated the night air as a portly, rosy faced woman came rushing past him in a swirl of blood-stained skirts. The woman charged towards an approaching group of battle-weary soldiers who were marching away from the docks and in her very direction. 

“My lord!”, the woman yelled to the group of men. “Please… you’re needed at the castle! My lady has given birth, but the maester requests your presence urgently.” A man with commanding presence, broad of frame, shoulder length, white hair, and piercing violet eyes stepped forward. Throwing his shield to the ground and without so much as a word to his men, the man entered into a sprint towards the castle as the woman turned on heel to trail after him. The man’s eyes were frantic and pleading. Not my star. Not my life.

Back in Winterfell, Bran’s eyes rolled forward as his mind adjusted to the new view. Bran’s body prickled with cold as Theon turned to meet his eyes. Theon’s face fell as he looked between Bran and the Knight King. “Theon”, Bran called, “You’re a good man”. With the finality in Bran’s voice and gentle smile on his lips, Bran watched as Theon’s eyes welled with tears before turning his attention back to the Night King. Theon’s face hardened with resolve as he ran into the darkness. In that moment, the first head of the dragon came into focus; Jon. 

Jon lunged towards the group of eight generals with Arya right behind him. They caught the two positioned at the rear unaware; bodies shattering instantly. Without hesitating at the loss of his men, the Knight King pressed forward towards Bran as his remaining six generals turned towards the commotion wrought by the two living warriors battling ahead. It mattered not for Jon’s and Arya’s skill with a sword. The Knight King’s generals were too big, too powerful, and too many. The Night King knew this, but Bran understood more. With every general felled, wights spread throughout the larger battle would fall. 

As Bran’s eyes met the Knight King’s unwavering stare, a sickening thud echoed from the direction of Jon and Arya. While Jon barely bested another of the generals, Arya had been knocked backwards into the stone wall by a fourth. Jon turned his head to Arya in horror and Bran could see Jon’s internal conflict in choosing between Arya and Bran. Should Jon move towards Arya, the Knight King would reach Bran before he could. Should Jon forge ahead, Arya would surely be lost to the world as the general who had knocked committed the blow now marched purposefully towards her semiconscious, vulnerable body. 

Before Jon could act, the second head of the dragon appeared from the skies on the back of Drogon. Unlike the Night King, his generals were not impervious to flame. As Jon ran towards Arya, Daenerys rained fire down on the remaining four generals. Jon blocked what would have been a killing blow from the general poised over Arya. With what little strength and awareness Arya had left in her body, she plunged her valyrian steel dagger into the remaining general, but not before the undead creature had landed a killing blow to Jon. Bran turned his gaze from Jon back to the Night King who was now standing before him. The Night King’s blade dripped with blood from countless living he had felled en route to the Godswood. 

Bran knew a strike from the Knight King would be true. His blows to the living soldiers fighting to hold the outer gates of the Godswood were swift and too powerful for any living man to contest. Bran realized for the second time tonight that he should have felt fear, but again he didn’t. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of Bran’s mouth. A moment’s hesitation from the Knight King was his undoing. A valyrian steel sword came into view which the Night King quickly deflected, but not before its twin blade burst through his chest. In the moment of impact, the blade almost seemed to take on a flaming blue hue mirroring the color of the Night King’s eyes. As the Knight King shattered to ice, the third head of the dragon came into focus next to Ser Jaime. The prince… or rather princess… who was promised stood panting from exertion and raised her sapphire eyes to Bran.


	2. Tyrion I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Long Night is over and the feast is next. There will be no virgin shaming here because that was absurd.

Days had passed as the castle inhabitants worked to clear debris and stack the bodies of the fallen outside Winterfell’s walls. Tyrion was still in disbelief over the events of these last days, but as he stood on the battlements overlooking the yard of piled bodies, he spotted his brother and Ser Brienne amongst the crew working together to carry yet another lifeless form towards the erected pyre. From his position above the yard, Tyrion could see Ser Brienne try, but fail, to suppress a smile as his brother prattled on about something he couldn’t quite make out given the distance. Tyrion’s mind wandered back to the night before the battle.

Their little group seated around the fire in the great hall had dwindled as the wine ran out. Ser Brienne and Pod excused themselves not long before Tormund and Davos took leave. “Well brother, I think you made Lady Brienne’s… apologies…. Ser Brienne’s night. Pun intended.” Jaime turned his attention from the flames to study his little brother’s scarred face and gave a tired sigh. “I did nothing that shouldn’t have been done by these bloody Starks years ago.”. Tyrion took a pause to contemplate the statement, but continued, “You know I never got to ask you after the trial. The lady said that you lost your hand defending her. That fact seemed to have escaped your telling of the tale upon your return to King’s Landing.” 

Jaime inhaled and seemed to wince at the memory as he looked back towards the flames. “Yes Tyrion, I imagine that would have gone over terribly well with Cersei and father. ‘Well hello, this is Lady Brienne. She was my captor as well as the sworn sword of Catelyn Stark. I lost my hand defending her. I could have come back sooner, but I thought it would be fun to nearly got myself killed a second time while saving her from a bear’. Yes, I’m certain they would have loved hearing those details and would have been nothing but gracious hosts to her from that point forward.” Saved from a bear Tyrion thought in shock. Did Jaime even realize he divulged that new detail? 

Tyrion raised his brow at the statement, “I’m sorry, did you say a bear!?” Realizing what he said, Jaime stiffened and tried to dismiss the subject. With some urging and perhaps well-placed threats to track Brienne down for details himself, Jaime recounted the story of his return to King’s Landing to Tyrion, but this time sparing no detail. It was in that moment that Tyrion realized this was no infatuation or deep respect as a comrade in arms. His brother clearly loved this woman. The greater question is whether his brother recognized this fact. Tyrion’s mind was pulled back to the present as a larger crowd began to amass in the yard below. The funeral was about to commence. 

The number of fallen soldiers was too many to count and any soul still taking breath stood outside the gates of Winterfell looking at the sea of stacked, motionless bodies awaiting flames to consume their bodies. Tyrion looked to his left at the remaining Starks. 

Arya. When Tyrion first saw Arya upon arriving at Winterfell, he couldn’t help but think how beyond her years the young wolf looked. Tyrion vaguely remembered the little girl he met at Winterfell. Eyes full of life, youth, and mischief. The girl he saw upon his arrival these many years later was different. It seemed Arya had encountered more in these years than most see in a lifetime. She looked cool, confident, and dangerous. Today however she looked her age. Like a little girl thrust into a war she was unprepared for. He observed the usually stoic girl bite back tears and attempt to steel herself as she looked ahead. 

Sansa. Equally surprising to encounter was the change in his former wife. The scared little girl once tortured by Cersei, Joffrey, and court had grown into a strong, intelligent, politically savvy woman who made him take pause at his self-proclaimed title of “the cleverest man in Westeros”. Well admittedly, the title had been hotly contested since his return from across the Narrow Sea. Even his own brother, dubbed “the stupidest Lannister” by this cunt of a sister, had outsmarted him at every turn over the past year. He looked to his right to observe Jaime standing solemnly beside the hero of the Long Night. 

Distantly Tyrion could hear Sansa address the assembled crowd to honor the fallen. This was to be the Stark family’s second burial of the day. The first being the private burial of Jon Snow. No… Aegon Targaryen. Jon Snow would not be laid to rest on a pyre alongside the other soldiers of this war, but rather put to rest in the crypts of Winterfell beside his aunt turned mother, Lyanna Stark. He was bastard of Winterfell no more as Bran and Sam confirmed his identity after the Long Night. While Daenerys had blanched at the public mention of his Targaryen heritage, she bit back comment. 

Tyrion’s mind wandered back to his brother and the warrior Maid of Tarth. As he focused his gaze again on his brother, he found himself carefully observing Jaime. It still shocked Tyrion to see his big brother pining after anyone who wasn’t Cersei. Had his big brother truly left Cersei for good? Perhaps Tyrion misinterpreted Jaime’s recounting his time with Brienne in the Riverlands and this was just a deep bond forged from shared trauma. Perhaps an emotional rebound from the sudden departure at Cersei’s side. A craving for affection from a man who only ever lived life loving to the extreme. Perhaps Jaime felt unmoored by leaving Cersei behind and finding himself adrift without a love to cling to.

But Tyrion shook the thoughts as quickly as they formed. No, there was no mistaking his brother’s love for the knight. Standing amongst the other survivors, he saw something more in his brother’s features. Jaime’s jaw was set tight, but his eyes kept darting to the knight at his side. He watched his older brother’s good had clench and unclench before starting to slowly move towards Brienne’s hand in an apparent attempt to grab it, but the motion was halted as abruptly as it started. Tyrion watched his brother’s face as he imagined Jaime’s internal conflict… “To hold or not to hold? Will she punch me? Will she yell at me?”. Before a final decision could be made, Brienne abruptly stepped away as Sansa called for the torches to be lit and brought to the pyres. 

Tyrion watched as Brienne marched towards one of the pyres. Sansa, Tormund, Greyworm, a Dothraki, Davos, and a Northman approached the other pyres. As the torch bearers made their way back to position, Tyrion again observed his brother. Jaime’s eyes tracked Brienne’s movement back to position by his side and Jaime’s eyes softened as she glanced at him. At the feast tonight, Tyrion resolved that he would find out more about their history together. He was also keen to understand Brienne’s feelings towards his brother. Surrounded by destruction, loss, and grieving, Tyrion could only hope for something good to come from all this death.

Hours later as everyone filed into the great hall to celebrate their victory against the dead, Tyrion excused himself from the head table to venture over to where Jaime, Brienne, and Pod sat. He had been observing his brother and Brienne from a distance and was determined to get to the bottom of that ridiculous look on his brother’s face every time Brienne caught his eye. Brienne seemed no better than his brother at suppressing some deeper meaning in her looks. Before reaching the group, Tyrion stopped at a nearby table to grab a jug of wine. Something told him that if he wanted honesty out of those two, he needed to loosen them up a bit first.

As Tyrion plopped down at the table next to Jaime, wine sloshing out of the jug, he looked up at his brother with a sly grin. “Brother! You wound me. Here we both survive a fight with death and rather than seek me out, you follow around our hero like lost pup. Come now… did you know I survived?”

“What are you on about Tyrion!? I came right to you in the crypts after the battle.”, Jaime defended while shooting a grin at Brienne. Oh this is going to be good, Tyrion thought to himself. Tyrion turned to Pod and smirked at his former squire, “Huh… interesting. Pod tell me, does the north tell time differently than the south? Was it not you who first entered the crypts to inquire about my and Lady Sansa’s wellbeing? When my brother did turn up, I could have sworn I had to practically throw my empty wine flask at his head to pry his attention away your lady knight who was engrossed in conversation with Lady Sansa.”. Pod tried to stifle a laugh, but before Tyrion could push further, he felt a swift kick under the table from his brother. As his head shot back to Jaime, he saw the most amusing blush creep up his brother’s neck and an imploring look of “do shut the fuck up”. 

Tyrion raised a mocking brow, but quickly changed the subject, “How about a game!?”. No sooner than the words escaped his mouth did Tyrion hear the groans from Pod and Jaime. Tyrion was not to be deterred, “What!? It is fun I promise. One person makes a guess about another’s past. If the statement is correct, that person drinks. If it is incorrect, the person who guessed drinks.” Neither Brienne, Jaime, nor Pod looked amused. “Oh come on! I even got that dull Greyworm to play once. Look at him over there. He is still intact! Well… to be clear the bits he is missing were gone BEFORE the game.” Begrudgingly the group acquiesced and several rounds of questioning in, the table had become rather rowdy eliciting stares from those around them.

“You were married… before Sansa!”, Brienne proclaimed towards Tyrion. She quickly glanced between Tyrion and Jaime. With a questioning look at Jaime, Tyrion saw his brother’s lips curl into a smile before yelling, “Drink!”. Not unnoticed by Tyrion was Jaime’s shift in expression as he turned back towards Brienne, his eyes softening, and lips parting slightly. This is it Tyrion thought while turning his full attention to Jaime. “You have only been in love with two women your entire life!”. At the statement, Jaime’s head snapped back to Tyrion and away from Brienne. Jaime’s jaw slackened in shock and Tyrion observed the blush creeping back up his brother’s neck. A quick glance towards Brienne showed her eyes darting back and forth between the brothers before staring down into her wine. Pod to his credit was too busy observing some of the serving wenches in the corner. Before anyone could respond, the red headed, beast of a man came staggering over to the table. His furs were covered in the remnants of whatever foul liquid he had been guzzling from that ridiculous horn and his crooked eyebrows shot up as his eyes roamed Brienne’s seated form. Seven hells. 

“My lady! Or should I say, my knight! You fought well out there. I knew it. I knew that you and I would make great babies that will conquer the world! What a mother they’ll have… defeated death itself!”. At the wildling’s words, Jaime’s head snapped quickly from Tyrion to the wildling; his eyes glaring up at the man who was leering at Brienne. If it was possible to bed a woman simply by looking at her lustfully, Tyrion would say Brienne was well had several times over. From the corner of his eye, Tyrion could see Jaime’s good hand balling into a fist and his jaw set. Before anyone could comment further, Brienne shot up from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling quite tired and ought to retire for the night. There is much work to be done on the morrow.”. 

As Brienne made her away out of the hall, Tormund moved to follow her. Just as quickly as Brienne had shot out of her chair, Jaime shot up from his chair to block the wildling’s path. With a stiff pat on the shoulder and firm look at Tormund, Tyrion watched as his brother stalked off after his knight. Looking rather dejected, Tormund cast a curious glance towards Tyrion who promptly poured the remnants of his wine into the wildling’s horn before walking off towards the head table. 

Well not what I intended, but hopefully my brother makes use of his alone time with his knight. Tyrion thought to himself as he sat down with a huff next to Sansa. “Ah, my lady wife. You look splendid this evening. So good in fact that I could almost forgive you for committing polygamy.” Sansa raised a brow at her new seating companion but held her mask in place as she responded coolly, “Lord Tyrion, need I remind you that our sham marriage will garner you no favors here. Now, whatever have you done to my sworn sword to make her retire so abruptly?”. Tyrion couldn’t suppress the smirk on his face as he turned to face her.

“Well your sworn sword seems to be stealing my brother’s attention from me. Now with him having to crane his neck up so much, I fear he will never see me again.” A self-deprecating smile tugged at Tyrion’s lips as he observed Sansa roll her eyes and look back towards him. “Yes, well I must admit that despite my very limited care for your brother’s well-being, I am starting to wonder that he may well walk right off the battlements if he continues to find himself incapable of taking his eyes off Ser Brienne.”. Ah interesting. Sansa has noticed this too. 

“Tell me Lady Sansa”, Tyrion began, “Has Ser Brienne ever spoken of my brother? I’m sorry to say I was a bit preoccupied during our overlapping time in King’s Landing when my delightful nephew choked on his pigeon pie.”. Sansa’s eyes danced with delight as she leaned in and whispered, “Of course she has.” At the statement, Tyrion stifled a gasp and sat up straighter, eyes searching and ears eager to hear more as Sansa continued, “There is nothing Ser Brienne enjoys more than coming by my room at night, braiding my hair, and talking about boys”. Sansa grinned as the sarcasm washed Tyrion’s hopes away. Before Tyrion could reply, Sansa’s attention was stolen away by something across the hall. As Sansa stood to move towards the interruption, she took pause, pivoted back towards Tyrion and leaned in, “If you do happen to find out more, I would be most interested to continue this conversation.”. Tyrion let out a sigh as Sansa strode away. He took the end to the conversation as his queue to retire for the evening. 

Making his way back to his room, his mind again wandered to his brother. Gods willing, he would find Jaime to break his fast in the morning and fill in the gaps from the evening. As Tyrion pushed open his chamber door, he was taken aback by the sight of his brother’s sleeping form on the bedroll in Jaime’s usual spot near the fire. Alas, these two were going to be more work than Tyrion thought. At least he would have something pleasant to distract him from compared to the other looming conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Jaime POV


	3. Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the war council to convene. What will Jaime do?

Light poured gently through the window and cast shadows along the wall. Jaime’s eyes slowly opened and he took in his surroundings. Another night spent on the floor in his brother’s assigned chambers. Thank the Gods for Tyrion or Jaime knew there would be little hospitality shown by any Northerner to the Kingslayer. Jaime had spent another night tossing and turning; visions of sapphire eyes occupying his mind. The snores of his brother filled the room and served as a reminder of the golden bitch slap Jaime surely owed him for last night’s commentary during the feast. 

Part of Jaime couldn’t fault Tyrion for his keen observation skills. Since they were boys, Tyrion had a knack for reading people and bearing their deepest secrets in the most inappropriate of settings. He had safely avoided that side of his brother for the better part of his years, but of late he just wanted to hide from Tyrion’s knowing eyes.

Slipping out of the room quietly, Jaime made his way to the great hall in hopes some of the kitchen staff hadn’t drunk themselves into a stupor the night before. Alas, as he approached the room all he could hear were the distant snores of a handful of wildlings too drunk to have stumbled to their barracks after the festivities. With a sigh, Jaime headed towards the training yard hoping to distract his rumbling stomach with a vigorous workout. As he rounded the corner, there she was. 

You’re much uglier in daylight. The thought came unbidden to his mind as he thought to himself how utterly idiotic he had been during their early acquaintance. There was no denying that Brienne was not the type of woman the courts would welcome warmly; nor would songs sing of her outward beauty. Brienne was of his height, perhaps an inch taller. Her body lacked the rounded curves of most noble ladies and in their place the outline of well-defined muscles; evidence of a lifetime of training with a sword. 

What he neglected to do in those early days was truly look at her. She had the most astonishing eyes Jaime had ever seen. Deep, round pools of sapphires housing nothing but goodness he wished to swim in for the rest of his days. Her cheeks housed a smattering of the faintest freckles that spoke to years in the sun on her island home and reminded Jaime of the night sky. He wanted to trace the constellations on her face while looking into those eyes and wrapping a lock of her short hair around his finger. Her hair was much lighter than his own; somewhere between a blonde hue and Targaryen white. She might not catch the eye of most, but she was beautiful to Jaime. Beautiful he realized in ways Cersei could never be.

Brienne stood in the yard looking well rested and determined as she barked commands at Pod. Poor Pod looked like most of Winterfell likely felt. The boy turned man had bags under his eyes, a slowness to his pace, and a voice shaky with fatigue. His jerkin had the markings of a squire felled several times over in these sparring matches that Brienne was holding nothing back on. 

Jaime approached the pair who looked to have just finished another match. With a bow of the head in greeting, Jaime felt a smile tug at his lips as he announced himself. “Ser Brienne. Pod.” Pod looked as relieved as a man eyeing the ocean after years in the Dothraki desert. Brienne turned to Jaime returning his greeting. Jaime looked between the two before proceeding, “Well I see Ser Brienne offers no rest for the weary. Why don’t you let the boy run off to get some sleep and instead spar with someone who I assure you is strong enough.” Brienne huffed and shot back, “I assure you ser, battles don’t wait for recoveries from a hangover. Queen Daenerys has called her war council today.” Jaime bit back a disparaging remark about the Dragon Queen and pushed his point, “All the more reason to give the boy some rest. Come now my lady, may I have this dance?” Jaime gave an exaggerated, mock brow at Brienne and unsheathed Widow’s Wail. Pod looked between the two and upon receiving a subtle nod from Brienne, happily took off towards the castle. 

Adrenaline coursed through Jaime’s body as he and Brienne spent the better part of the hour parrying, striking, and charging back and forth. He got knocked onto his ass more times than he cared to count, but he enjoyed every minute of it. A group of Unsullied had joined them at a point and were also observing the two. As Jaime sought a break to catch his breath, Greyworm approached and began a match with Brienne. This afforded Jaime the opportunity to sit back and watch her in all her glory. As he watched Brienne study and adapt to the Unsullied leader’s style, Jaime felt a presence at this side. Tyrion had joined him and reached across his body, offering his flagon of wine.

"Well brother, why am I not surprised to see you out here enjoying the view this morning?” Jaime felt his frustration with Tyrion mount as he caught his brother’s knowing smirk at the end of his comment. “Come off it Tyrion! What do you want?”. Tyrion sighed and lowered his voice. “Listen, there is to be a war council this morning and I need to know what you plan to do. Are you intending to head back to King’s Landing now that the dead are defeated?” Does Tyrion really think me that stupid Jaime mused. 

“And what pray tell would I return to King’s Landing for?” Jaime’s eyes locked onto Tyrion’s as Tyrion considered his response. Jaime didn’t know where Tyrion’s next remark was going, but judging by the grimace on his little brother’s face, he was leery of what was about to come. “Cersei? Isn’t she with child?” Jaime couldn’t help the huff of laughter escaping his lips. “If Cersei is with child, I couldn’t begin to imagine who the father is, but she hardly looked pregnant when I left. Euron perhaps? Another Kingsguard? Qyburn or that undead Clegane of hers? I wouldn’t put anything past her at this point.” 

Jaime wasn’t surprised to see Tyrion’s bewildered expression. “Tyrion, I’m not going back there. Not unless I want to see my head removed from my shoulders. Since she blew up the sept and drove Tommen to kill himself, I finally saw her for what she is. I haven’t… I was not with her in quite a longtime. I just wish I had mustered the strength to leave her sooner. I don’t know where I will go or what I’ll do, but I won’t go back there.”

Tyrion seemed to consider his words before responding, “Bend the knee to Daenerys. Jaime, I don’t know that I can secure your safety here if you don’t pledge yourself to her.” Maybe he doesn’t think he stupid, he thinks me mad Jaime thought bitterly. “I refuse to bend the knee to her. She is the Mad King reborn. I can see it in her eyes. I watched her burn my men without a moments pause. No, I won’t fight for her. And I won’t fight Cersei. I may see her for what she is now, but she is still my sister. I won’t partake in her downfall.” At these words, Tyrion tensed next to him, but would not drop the subject. “Jaime, you must declare for someone. What will you do?” Jaime was dreading this. If he was being honest, he assumed he would die in the Long Night. His only hope had been to shield Brienne’s back and, if the Gods deemed him worthy, die an honorable death in her arms. 

Jaime looked back out to Brienne who had just disarmed a smiling Greyworm. Jaime didn’t know what he would do, but he would follow Brienne’s lead. Hells he would even pledge himself to the blasted Starks if it meant giving his life a little meaning and well… the proximity to Brienne wouldn’t hurt. 

Later that morning, the remaining generals began filing into the small council room. Jaime followed his commander in while admiring the confidence with which she walked. She was a far cry from the woman he met years ago who seemed to permanently roll in on herself. His eyes roamed her body as she strode purposefully ahead of him towards Sansa’s side. An image of Brienne came to his mind; naked as her nameday in a dingy tub at Harrenhal, water cascading down her raised, defiant chin and off of her perky nipples. He felt the familiar stirring in his groin whenever this image flashed uninvited into his mind. 

Before he could think on the matter further, he felt a hurried shove into this shoulder as that beastly wildling charged past him and towards Brienne. Damn wildling just won’t take a hint Jaime fumed inwardly. He watched as the redheaded bear of a man planted himself firmly to Brienne’s left. Sansa stood to Brienne’s right casting a look between the two and then back Jaime’s way. The look of irritation on his face must have lingered a moment too long, as she gave him a bemused smirk and turned back towards the table. 

Ser Royce, another wildling, Arya, Gendry, Davos, and Bran were also positioned around the table. Sansa was speaking in hushed tones to Brienne and Jaime couldn’t quite discern the topic of their conversation, but based on the growing scowl on Brienne’s face, it couldn’t be good. Instead, Jaime stood to Tormund’s left and took in the wildling beside him.   
“Tormund, good to see you managed to find your way here. I assumed you went searching for some downed giant wight’s body to spoon up against last night.” The wildling turned his head towards Jaime and let out a bark of laughter catching Jaime by surprise. 

“I am surprised to see you here little lion. I thought you would be halfway back to your sister’s cunt by now” with that, Tormund leaned in and lowered his voice “Don’t you worry. I’ll take good care of the lady knight. She could use a real man at her side.” Jaime felt his blood begin to boil as he reached for Widow’s Wail. Brienne’s eye caught the movement and glared and Jaime delivering a clear message of “Don’t you dare draw that sword.”. Moving his good hand back to his side, the group startled at the sound of the door slamming open. In strode Tyrion, Greyworm, two Dothraki, Varys, and the Dragon Queen.

The council had begun.


	4. Sansa I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get heated in the war council.

Daenerys moved quickly to the front of the table, glancing down at the map and assessing the markers denoting the various forces. Slowly she turned her violet gaze up to look around the room at those assembled. As her eyes scanned the room, her focus landed on Jaime in surprise. “Why is the Kingslayer here!?” 

Eyes began darting about the room, but Sansa’s cool gaze rose to meet violet eyes. “He has pledged himself to serve under my sworn sword. Unless he declares otherwise, I take no issue with him being present.” Jaime looked between Sansa, Daenerys, and his brother. Sansa cast a look his way and observed the slightly frantic thoughts marking his features. Tyrion’s face seemed to mirror Jaime’s.

Sansa’s attention was quickly drawn back to the Dragon Queen who was now addressing the one-handed knight. “Well Ser Jaime, I assume this means you’ll be bending the knee to me. Although I have yet to determine if I would trust your oath of fealty given you are the same man who swore oaths to my father before stabbing him in the back.” The air in the room was thick with tension and Sansa looked back to Jaime. He raised his head defiantly and replied, “No need to trouble yourself with such concerns. I won’t be bending the knee unless my Commander bids me do so.” All eyes turned to the tall knight to Sansa’s left. 

With a blush creeping up Brienne’s face as she stammered in reply, Sansa cut her off. “Well then that is settled. My sworn sword would hardly request those under her command bend the knee to someone who I have yet bend the knee to.”

Well if we weren’t at odds before, this will surely do it Sansa mused. With that remark, Daenerys bristled, and her violet eyes flashed with rage. “Need I remind you that the North has already bent the knee! Your brother bent the knee when he was your king and I agreed to bring my armies North to fight for my people.” Without missing a beat, Sansa bit back, “My cousin bent the knee, but you may recall my firm refusal to support his actions upon your arrival at Winterfell. Jon was my brother in heart, but my cousin by blood and as such, had no right to act on behalf of the North. Only a Stark must rule Winterfell and my people assumed him to be my father’s seed.”. The words were thick on Sansa’s tongue and hurt to voice, but she knew she must speak in harsh terms to invalidate Jon’s prior decision. 

“My opinion on the matter remains unchanged. The North will maintain its independence. Now unless you agree to support that independence, I fail to see the point of this meeting as you have lost nearly all of your forces. If you back our independence, I will consider sending our army south in support of your battle for the throne.” 

Daenerys stood firmer and replied, “Again I remind you that my army sacrificed its numbers to save the North. I could have captured the throne by now, but I came to aid the North instead. A thankless effort it turned out to be.”. Sansa could feel the tension in the room building and noted the posturing of the soldiers gathered on both sides of the table. Working to bring the tension down a notch, Sansa responded, “As I stated, should you elect to back the North’s independence, we will support your quest for the throne, but we also need to be smart about when such a march would happen. We have suffered losses to our numbers. Also let me be clear that the fight you joined was for the living; not for the North alone. Had we fallen, the army of the dead would have marched on you or Cersei in the south. I imagine with depleted forces from a recent battle, whoever prevailed would have been the next to fall.”

Tyrion spoke up in attempt to physically and metaphorically put himself between the two women at odds. “Your Grace and Lady Sansa, we need each other in this battle ahead. I think we could all agree that my sister must be removed from the throne. Let us first assess if we even have the forces and provisions necessary to proceed with such a campaign.” 

Sansa rounded on Tyrion with a pointed glare but conceded the point. “Very well, let us discuss what remains of our armies and see if we might come to terms, but I would remind you that your Queen and her army are guests in my home no matter the outcome. Unlike your family, we honor guest right, but we will not tolerate hostility. I doubt your foreign forces would survive the elements of the north”

Varys chimed in to focus the conversation on the less arguable points. “Your Grace, the Dothraki ranks are down to roughly 1,000. The Unsullied were on the frontlines as well and their ranks number around 2,000. Rhaegal is hurt quite severely from the battle, but Drogon seems to be faring well. We could call in the Second Sons to round out our numbers at 6,000, but it will take them some time to make their way to Westeros.”

Ser Royce spoke next. “Lady Sansa, the Vale has about 3,000 left. The Northern soldiers are rather depleted at 1,000.” The atmosphere in the room was heavy at the realization of just how few fighting soldiers remained on both sides. 

Tormund spoke next. “My people fought for Jon. I won’t force them to fight in your southern matters, but there are 500 in fighting condition left. More than likely, most will head back north of the wall now that the threat is gone. In honor of Jon, I will however do as you bid.” As he made his last statement, he cast a lustful glance towards Brienne that was not unnoticed by those in the room.

Varys spoke up again. “The Iron Islands have already pledge to you, but they are a house divided. Euron holds most of the Ironborn fleet. Yara commands roughly 500. They owe you their independence and would be honor bound to return to your aid.” 

At this, Sansa’s choked down gasp. “You would grant independence to the Iron Islands, but not the North!?” Her initial assessment was correct, this woman was mad. She would grant such freedoms to a small house already divided by this war. The North would willingly back her for the same freedom, but she held firm.

Daenerys’ eyes cast a sideways glance to Varys before falling on Sansa. “They pledged themselves of their own volition before I even called on them. I trust their loyalty. Besides, they are a small island to consider. The North is rich in resources and represents a sizeable portion of Westeros. I cannot give that up so easily.” 

Sansa was incredulous and her former husband seemed to pick up on her thoughts. He looked pointedly to Gendry and then to Davos in effort to change the topic. “Even with the Iron Islands, we are still outnumbered by the Golden Company 2:1 and that is not even accounting for the Lannister forces. The Westerlands army is sizable and number nearly 8,000. I would estimate half are in the city in protection of Cersei. The remaining are spread between Riverrun and back at Casterly Rock since we moved the Unsullied out. My Aunt Genna won’t have passed up the opportunity to reclaim our ancestral home. I could write them, but I doubt they would answer my appeal. I murdered my father, their lord, and Cersei sits on the throne. The only person they might listen to is their current Lord by birthright.” Tyrion cast a pointed look at Jaime who immediately looked down. 

With a sharp inhale, Tyrion continued “Yes, we have dragons, by my sister will be prepared this time. She learned a lot about their capability on the Goldroad and you were almost downed by one scorpion. They will be ready the next time.” 

Tyrion turned to Davos, “Who leads the Stormlands in absence of a Baratheon at Storms End? Perhaps we can have Gendry rally them now that Daenerys has legitimized him?” Davos cast a skeptical glance towards Gendry. “The Stormlanders are a stubborn people. They likely won’t follow the lad without backing from the more respected houses. The Stormlands forces were greatly depleted with the infighting between Renly and Stannis. By my estimate, if all houses agreed to join our cause that would get us an extra 5,000. I think we would have more luck finding another dragon then the Stormlands rallying to our cause.”

Disregarding the last statement, a flicker of hope crossed Daenerys’ face as she looked towards Davos. “Whose lead would they follow? Which vassal house would hold the most sway in absence of their Warden? With their support plus the remaining forces, and my dragons, we would have a chance.” 

Davos took a deep, steadying breath and raised his eyes to Brienne. “Lord Tarth”.


	5. Jaime II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the council, tempers flare.

Jaime practically ran from the war council before Tyrion could catch him. While the group had agreed it was best to recover, replenish supplies, and send letters to the forces discussed, Jaime could not help but feel a sense of dread at the thought of Cersei’s downfall. She had been his life since they were born and he wanted no part in this.

From behind him, he heard steps rapidly working to catch up with him. The steps soon caught up and a voice he would recognize anywhere reached his ears. “Ser Jaime! Please wait.” He turned to face those sapphire eyes he so longed to wake up to each morning and took a steadying breath before facing her.

She looked conflicted and hesitant but continued her train of thought. “I would not ask you to fight with us if Lady Sansa sends me south. I know it would dishonor you to ask for such participation in this fight. Cersei is after all your… sister.” She looked down to her feet before continuing and Jaime felt a rush of warmth for the woman before him. Brienne was the only woman he knew wouldn’t use him in ways that would dishonor him or ask a service that would hurt him emotionally. “If you wish to leave though, I hold you to no pledge made before the battle with the dead. You honored your oaths to us and did more than most would have.” 

Jaime needed her to understand so she looked directly into her eyes, imploring her to believe him. “I will not leave nor return to Cersei’s side. She is my sister and I do not wish to join a march against her, but I stand by my decision serve under your command, for as long as you’ll have me.”

The tension in Brienne’s body seemed to ease as she took in his words. “If we do march south, might I ask you to guard Sansa in my absence? If we lose this battle, she’ll need someone to take her north to safety? I’m sure Tormund’s people will watch over her. They seem to respect her out of respect for Jon. I know they would shelter her. Then you go could wherever you see fit.” 

At the thought of being separated from Brienne, Jaime’s heart sank. I can’t lose her to Cersei. I can’t let her march south alone. “I’ll do as you ask, but I prefer to stay by your side. Brienne… I…”

Before Jaime could continue, Tyrion had caught up to them. “Jaime! I need to speak with you urgently. Might I steal you away from Ser Brienne for a moment?” Before Jaime could tell him to piss off, Brienne spoke up, “Of course my lord. I best get back. Pod is waiting for me at barracks.” 

With that, she was off and Jaime released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Tyrion grabbed his arm and ushered him into a side room. “Jaime, I can’t do this on my own. Daenerys wants me to send a raven to Aunt Genna and the army at Riverrun. They won’t listen to me and I’ve told her this, but they might listen to you. I know you don’t want to be involved, but please! Without more numbers, we both know this battle is lost. Even if you don’t wish to Cersei, you’ll need to face her army on the field eventually. They will defeat us without more aid.” 

Jaime was in no mood to repeat himself for the millionth time today. Without so much as a word, he angrily stomped off towards the yard hoping to take his frustrations out on a dummy or some poor soul who might mistakenly look at him the wrong way. 

The yard was littered with soldiers from various camps sparring and working to repair the castle. Jaime made his way to a practice dummy and began raining down frustrated blows. Everything was bubbling to the surface and soon the world around him faded away. His love for a certain sapphire eyed wench. His growing frustration with his brother. His desire to see the Dragon Queen make her way to the Seven Hells to join their father. His sister sitting on the blasted throne a world away, amassing forces against those he stood with now; including the one person he couldn’t lose. 

From his back, he heard the voice of that blasted wildling. “Kingkller! There you are. How about you fight someone who can fight back? I could use a good warmup round before I spar with my lady knight.” 

This wilding picked the wrong time. Jaime turned and swung wildly at Tormund without otherwise acknowledging the request to the spar. Tormund quickly deflected the blow with a haughty laugh. “This might be the fastest victory yet. Is that all you have sister fucker?”. The two exchanged blows for what felt like hours but could be no more than minutes. Jaime could sense a crowd gather, but could only focus on the beast of a man in front of him. Tormund quickly moved to hit his good arm while dodging a strike. As he did so, he kicked Jaime’s leg out from underneath him and Jaime fell to the ground. Tormund leaned down and spat, “Just as I thought. Fancy southern words and no follow through. Now I’m off to claim my big woman.”. Something inside Jaime snapped and he leapt to his feet just as Tormund had turned to walk away.

He tackled the wilding to the ground and landed a stiff right with his golden hand. A cracking sound filled the air as Tormund sucked a deep breath from the shock of the blow. Jaime rained down a left and then another right, but Tormund quickly raised his knee into Jaime’s groin. Buckling in pain, Jaime fell to his left and Tormund connected his fist to Jaime’s eye. Distantly Jaime could hear raucous shouting from the gathered crowd. Just as Jaime squirmed under the Wilding in a bid to scramble back to his feet, everything halted as the stern voice of Lady Sansa ring out loud and clear, “Enough!” He looked to see Lady Sansa storming towards them, fists balled at her side, and eyes shining with rage. Like two chastised youths, Jaime and Tormund climbed to their feet and looked abashedly at the ground. 

“Ser Jaime, follow me at once. Tormund, see to Sam about that check of yours.” Jaime looked to his side to see the swelling under Tormund’s eye where his false hand had struck him. Jaime could feel his own eye swelling in response to Tormund’s blow, but he did not look away from Lady Sansa as he followed her to the castle.   
As they weaved their way through the castle, Jaime caught the shocked looks from the Northerners they passed along the way. Sansa rounded into an empty room and slammed the door behind them. “What are you doing!?”

Jaime looked at her confused. “What am I doing? That beast challenged me.” Sansa huffed in frustration and pressed on, “I saw the fight if you can call it that. This after you spend the morning putting me in quite the precarious position during the war council. You simply won’t pick a side in this war and now you’re going around picking fights with what little allies I have willing to defend the North. To defend my home! Tormund is an important ally!”

Jaime let her words resonate and dropped his head, a wave of shame and frustration washing over him. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have engaged him.” Jaime looked up to see Sansa standing with a bowl of water and a rag. Her features lightened and she thrust the bowl and rag into this good hand. “Brienne would not be impressed you know.”   
Jaime couldn’t help but snort at the statement. “Who wouldn’t want an honorable knight such as myself defending her honor!” Jaime’s voice dripped with a combination of sarcasm and self-deprecation that mirrored his brother’s typical tone when caught in an uncomfortable situation. 

“How long?” Sansa asked abruptly. Jaime’s brow creased as he looked at her with confusion etched on his face. “How long what?” Sansa rolled her eyes and tilted her head at him. “How long have you been in love with Brienne?”. Oh. Either she has been talking to Tyrion or I a play more the pining fool than I thought. 

“I don’t know.” Jaime shifted uncomfortably as he avoided Sansa’s eyes. “Some time I suppose. Did Tyrion tell you?” Sansa’s laugh could not be contained. “Do you think someone really needed to tell me? Even a blind man can see your longing.” Jaime could feel the heat creeping up his neck at the comment and he looked back down at the bowl on his lap, dropping the rag into the cold water before pressing it to his swollen eye. 

Before he could think of a snide remark to take the attention off the awkwardness of the conversation, Sansa spoke again. “You know, even if I send my army’s south, I will not send Brienne. I will not thrust her into this war. She has done more than enough already.”

At this Jaime looked back up into Sansa’s eyes, a flicker of hope and desperation on his face. Maybe this was his answer to avoid much if not all of the looming conflict with Cersei. “I’ll stay and help Brienne. I can help train anyone not marching south or I can help rebuild the castle.” Sansa seemed to contemplate his words. Before she could speak, the door burst open and an enraged Brienne stood in the doorway with Pod looking sheepish behind her. She glared at Jaime and Sansa turned back to him with a knowing smirk.  
“Still extending that offer to stay Ser Jaime? I hope so. This might prove a welcome distraction from the march south.” At that, Sansa spun on her heel and passed Brienne. “Podrick, would you walk with me? I need to find Lord Gendry and help him see to those letters with the Stormlands lords.” With a final look between Brienne and Jaime, she smirked and walked away leaving Jaime staring into a storm of sapphires.

“Ser Brienne. What can I do for you?”


	6. Brienne I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime gets a talking to... again

“What were you thinking!? Picking a fight with Tormund for all to see!” Brienne felt her fists clench as she stormed into the room, slamming the door behind her. 

For once, Jaime had the good grace to look ashamed. “I’ve already been chastised enough by your lady. I can assure you that I’ve learned my lesson… in more ways than one” Jaime motioned to his swollen eye which was now a proper shade of purple and nearly shut from the swelling. 

Taking him in, Brienne felt her body uncoil and that familiar feeling sank into the pit of her stomach; worry for this confounding man. Jaime might be the death of her. Taking a step forward and stopping just between his knees as he sat back onto the table, Brienne shoved his hand aside and took the rag while appraising his eye. She winced at the injury and then replaced the cloth over his face. His body tensed under her touch and she noticed his breathing quicken. 

Of course he retreats from my touch. Great beast of a woman that I am. Brienne dropped her hand and mumbled an apology. Collecting herself, she looked back up at him. “You need to understand, Tormund is the leader of his people and an important ally. Whatever did you attack him for?”

“I didn’t like the way he spoke of you” Jaime mumbled in reply while looking towards the window. Brienne huffed before responding, “Well given the things you’ve said to me over the years, I can’t even imagine what might have come out of his mouth. I assure you however that I am more than capable of handling him on my own though!” She took a step back in frustration. 

Jaime’s head snapped back to look at her; green eyes flashing in irritation. “I know that!” as quickly as his temper flared, his voice and body softened. “Do… you want his attentions?” Brienne had no desire to go down this path with Jaime Lannister of all people. “Yes, it’s quite funny isn’t it. And here you thought it might be a horse who seeks my affections. Instead its a great bear of a man” At her words, an image of a bear pit and Locke came to the forefront of her mind. A familiar song echoed in her head. Her body tensed and she looked towards the window. 

As if sensing her darkening thoughts, Jaime spoke. “I was an idiot Brienne. I said a lot of things in the Riverlands to rile you up, but I didn’t mean it. I… I want you to be happy. Would Tormund make you happy?”

Does he really think Tormund is what I want? Here I feared my feelings for him were embarrassingly plain to see. “I do not want Tormund. I respect him as a warrior and what he has done for the North, but quite honestly he repulses me.” Brienne couldn’t read Jaime’s expression at her statement, but she could almost make out a smile tugging at his lips before he replied. “Good. Because quite frankly Brienne of Tarth, you could do better.” Now this was the Jaime she had come to know over the years. An all too familiar mocking undercurrent to his tone as he smiled more fully and pressed further. “I’m starting to worry at the strange attraction bears have to you.” 

Just as quickly as he made the comment with mirth in his voice, his face darkened, and he looked to her jerkin where the scars from the bear claws were hidden underneath the layers of cloth. Brienne looked away and again tried to block the memories pushing to the forefront of her mind. “I never should have left you.”, she heard him say as a barely registered whisper. At that, Brienne looked back at him; his eyes boring into hers.

“You came back. You saved me. I owe you my life.” 

“You saved me in ways you can’t imagine.” Jaime immediately replied, but then seemed to hesitate at his next words. His eyes took on a wet sheen to them. “Sansa intends to have you stay behind no matter her decision to support the Dragon Queen’s campaign. I’ve asked to stay behind. To stay with you… if you’ll have me.” As his words hit her, Brienne felt her heart race and her breathing constrict. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and had to break eye contact from him.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay. I know I stated as much earlier, but… Cersei. I understand what she is facing. She is your love and I don’t want you to regret your decision to not go to her.” It tore her heart to utter the words, but Brienne knew Cersei was where his heart lay. She was just an ugly, beast of a woman whose feelings could never be returned. Her septa had thought to remind her regularly enough during her childhood. Memories came flooding back to her.

She was all of 10 and had come running back to the castle in tears. A group of boys had stolen her clothing as she was swimming in the ocean surf. As she exited the water, the boys mocked her. Mocked her ugly face and manish body; already a head taller than the other children her age. Mocked her feeble attempts to cover herself. They sneered at her and pushed her between them as they jeered about how this would be the closest any man would want to come to touching her. When she finally broke free of the group and snatched her dress, she ran back to the castle and fell onto her bed in tears. She heard a door open and new instantly it was her septa. Her father was never there to comfort her. When her mother, brother, and sisters died, it was though all his emotional capacity to love anymore was gone. She was left alone in a cold world with this septa woman who hated her. She knew deep down her father must love her, but she never knew his comforting touch or words to reassure her.

Her septa approached and chastised her disheveled appearance. When Brienne attempted to explain what happened, the septa huffed in frustration and reprimanded her. “This world is not built for girls such as yourself. There is no knight in shining armor coming to your rescue. You are not built for love. You must learn to steel yourself to the comments of others that seek to wound. Words are wind. If you can’t, you won’t survive this world.” It was then Brienne realized she must be her own knight. No one would come to her aid. She was alone.

The memory faded and Brienne was staring down at her feet willing this conversation to end. Why won’t he just leave and go back to his heart’s desire. “Brienne, please look at me.” Brienne raised her blue eyes to meet green eyes. “For most of my life, I did love Cersei. I did terrible things for Cersei. I shoved a helpless boy out of a window for Cersei. I would have killed every man, woman, and child at Riverrun for Cersei. I killed my own cousin to get back to Cersei.” Brienne wanted to run. She didn’t want to hear these things, but she was frozen in place. “For so long I thought I loved Cersei and she was my mirror image. My other half. That is what she always told me. That we were two halves of the same soul. But… that changed. I met someone who made me realize how false that was. That wasn’t love. It was sick and twisted. A ‘disease’ Olena Tyrell once called it. She had the right of it.”

At this, Brienne’s felt her mouth slacken in shock and confusion. Jaime took a deep breath. “Brienne, I have killed for Cersei, but I would die for you. I… Brienne, I love you. I have for a long time.” Brienne felt her face heat and her mind went to war with itself. This can’t be. No one could ever love you. The strain of today has worn on him. As these thoughts rushed into her mind, she felt Jaime pull her closer between his knees and cup her chin towards him. He pulled her into a searing kiss and she felt her knees buckle.   
She felt fumbling and inexperienced. She hesitated before kissing him back. Her body felt like it was exploding and she felt him pull her body closer to his as he stood. Her body fully pressed against his, she could feel… oh Gods… she could feel his erection firm against her pelvis. His false hand pressed her further into him and his good hand combed through her hair as he held her in place and parted her lips with his tongue. 

Brienne felt her body spiraling. She never wanted this to end, but before her brain could register what to do next, a firm knock came at the door and Pod’s voice filled the sudden silence in the air. “My lady Ser. Lady Sansa has need of you.” Brienne quickly jumped back from Jaime’s grasp as both began gasping for air. They stared into each other’s eyes. Jaime’s eyes were filled with longing and lust. Brienne imagined her own eyes mirrored his.

“I… better see to Lady Sansa. I’ll see you at dinner then?” Brienne stammered and broke their gaze as she fumbled with jerkin, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles.   
She watched as Jaime swallowed thickly. “Yes, I will see you in the great hall.” As Brienne turned to walk towards the door, she took pause and turned back towards Jaime who was now staring at the floor, face red, and lips parted. “Jaime… I… love you too”.

And with that, Brienne turned and walked towards the door; yanking it open to fall into stride with Pod as they walked towards Sansa’s solar. She didn’t see the smile spread across Jaime’s face nor did she hear his parting words; a mere whisper into the growing space between them.

“Its yours. It will always be yours.”


	7. Tyrion II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The small council regroups and Daenerys gets some interesting news

Tyrion was taken aback to see his brother walk into the great hall for dinner with one side of his face looking like an eggplant. He heard there had been a skirmish in the yard earlier that day between his brother and Tormund, but he didn’t quite expect _this_.

“My Gods man! What happened to your face?” Tyrion stared into his brother’s one visible eye as Jaime plopped down into the seat across from him. “I hardly know what you’re referring to.” Jaime remarked casually as he reached for the wine. “Care to elaborate?”. Tyrion rolled his eyes and responded flippantly, “You don’t _see_ anything amiss here? Nothing falling out of your line of sight that should otherwise be there?”

Jaime feigned confusion and then his face quickly contorted into one of anguish and complete shock. “By the Gods Tyrion you’re correct! My hand! It’s… it’s gone.” Raising the false hand in the air as though he had never seen it before, Jaime immediately dropped it back down hard on to the table, sending the silverware into the air next to him. Idiot. Something was different about Jaime though and it wasn’t just the lack of two green eyes looking from Tyrion down to his wine cup. His brother looked… lighter?

“What has happened? Fuck the eye. Your mood. One could almost mistake you for being happy. Did that wildling knock a screw loose?” Before Jaime could respond, his attention was drawn to the door of the great hall as it swung open. Tyrion turned to meet his brother’s eyeline and saw Lady Sansa and Brienne striding in; Pod at their heels.

Tyrion turned back to his brother in time to catch Jaime’s beaming smile and false hand raise to grab Brienne’s attention. Brienne and Pod made their way to the table after finishing their conversation with Sansa. Strangely this table had become theirs; their little family spot in these last weeks. Pod sat to Tyrion’s right and Brienne to Jaime’s left. Tyrion observed the slight flush in Brienne’s cheeks and nervous fidgeting as she settled into her seat. She met Tyrion’s eyes with a slight smile and nod in greeting. “Lord Tyrion”. _So damn formal all the time._ Tyrion returned Brienne’s smile and clapped Pod on the shoulder “Good evening my dearest Southerners, stuck here with me in the frigid north. I trust you’ve both had a productive day?” Pod gave an affirmative smile while Brienne’s eyes darted to the cup of wine Jaime quickly placed in front of her.

As the lady knight took a sip of her wine and set her cup back down on the table, Tyrion did not miss the next few subtle movements. As Brienne’s hands fell back down to her lap, there was an immediate movement of his brother’s left arm towards the lady. If Tyrion could see through the wooden table, he was convinced he would see his brother’s hand resting atop Brienne’s hand. The blush creeping up the lady’s neck seemed to confirm his suspicions. The night carried on between the four with a few laughs and awkwardly exchanged looks with the table of wildlings seated several tables away. If Tyrion was pleasantly surprised by the physical proximity of his brother to the lady knight, the wildling leader Tormund looked as though he saw the Knight King reborn.

As dinner concluded and Brienne rose to leave, Jaime shot to his feet and offered to walk her to her room. Tyrion raised a brow at the two and then turned to Pod. “Will you walk me to my room Pod? It seems I won’t have my big brother to take me by the arm and ensure my safe delivery!” Pod suppressed a chuckle and Tyrion made to pour them some more wine, but his jape had fallen on deaf ears to the two knights standing before him as they only had eyes for each other. It was as though the rest of the hall faded away. Jaime offered his arm to Brienne how looked at him as though he had gifted her some knitting yarn. A silent conversation seemed to pass between the two, and Brienne cautiously looped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

When they were out of earshot, Tyrion turned to Pod. “What was that? Details man! Details!”. Pod merely shrugged his shoulders and suggested Lady Sansa may know more than him. Looking toward the head table, it appeared Sansa was engrossed in a conversation with Arya and Tyrion’s inquiry would have to wait. The little she wolf was shooting daggers about the room and Tyrion thought better of doing anything to find his way into her line of sight.

Tyrion soon found himself back in his room to go about the task of writing a letter to his Aunt Genna. With a resigned sigh, Tyrion rubbed his weary eyes and sealed the letter. He knew this wouldn’t be well received, but he had to try.

A week later the war council reconvened as ravens had flown out and flown back from the Stormlands, the Free Cities, and the Westerlands. Lets hope Daenerys felt one out of three was progress.

As the group surrounded the table, Tyrion cast an appraising look at those who joined them. To his left sat Lord Bran in his wheelchair, stoic as ever. Lady Arya and Lady Sansa to Bran’s left. Ser Brienne and the latest lion sigil attached to her hip next to Oathkeeper; his brother. Davos stood solemn beside Jaime with Gendry to his left. Tormund and a wildling companion stood scowling in the direction of Jaime. Lord Royce stood between the wildlings and Dothraki. Greyworm stood rigid as ever next to Missandei who flanked Daenerys right.

“So, what news from the ravens?” Daenerys queried. She looked first to Missandei. “Your Grace, Daario sent word that his men will set sail for King’s Landing within a fortnight once all supplies are loaded and all soldiers are gathered. They will head towards Dorne and meet with the contingent of loyalists seeking retribution for Ellaria Sand.”

“Good. Tyrion. What of your people?” _Well time to kill her mood._ “Your Grace, I regret to inform you that neither the Lannister troops in the Riverlands nor those who have returned to Casterly Rock recognize my authority over the land and refuse aid. They are sworn to the crown unless their Lord and Warden of the West decrees them to abandon that cause.”

At this, all eyes turned to Jaime who met his brother’s gaze. “Ser Jaime”, Daenerys tone dripped with disdain as she bit back her irritation. “Do you still refuse to participate in this war? Do you refuse to bend the knee to the rightful queen of the seven kingdoms?”

“Six kingdoms” Jaime quipped. “I believe we established at our last meeting that you gladly gave the Iron Islands away.” Tyrion could only shake his head in frustration at his brother’s insolence while he could hear Sansa and Arya barely suppress a chuckle beside him.

“And yes. I still plan to withhold aid in a war against my own kin. You’ll have to forgive me for lacking the drive to place the daughter of the mad king on the throne after I worked _so hard_ to see him removed.” _Why won’t my idiot brother just shut up. No wonder the idiot had his hand lopped off AFTER saving Brienne from rape._

“Tyrion tell me, if your brother ceases to draw breath, will your kin then recognize you as Lord and Warden of the West?” Tyrion could feel his throat constrict as he observed Jaime and Daenerys seething glares cast at one another. Before he could intercede, Jaime’s mouth ran away from him again. “Don’t worry you Grace… if I should fail to draw breath, my sister will be thrilled to find herself not only seated on the Iron Throne, but the proud Lady of the Rock and Warden of the West. You see, my father disowned Tyrion just before my brother decided to shoot an arrow through his chest while he sat on the privy. A fact which I’m certain my bannermen won’t forget anytime soon.”

Tyrion had to do something and quickly before the map before them was covered in blood. “Your Grace, we knew this attempt to call the Lannister banners was a stretch. Lets hear from Ser Davos.”

“Very well.” Daenerys clipped tone cut through the room. “Ser Davos, what word from the Stormlands?” Ser Davos looked to both Gendry and Brienne before shaking his head gravely, “They want no part in this war your Grace. As suspected, they do not recognize Lord Gendry as a trueborn heir to Robert’s lands. They will take a lot more convincing if they are to be swayed.”

At that, Daenerys rounded on Brienne. “Lady Brienne…”

“SER Brienne” Jaime interjected from Brienne’s side. Tyrion could see Brienne stiffen and cast a side glance at Jaime, imploring him to hold his tongue. 

Daenerys inhaled sharply and while glaring at Jaime, began anew “SER Brienne, you will write your father and request his support. It seems he molds more sway in the east than most of the other vassal houses.” Tyrion watched as Sansa drew up straight and spoke in a commanding tone. “Ser Brienne does not run errands for you, your Grace. I would never ask this of her. She is my sworn sword as we previously discussed. She will remain at Winterfell regardless of whether I send troops to your cause. I will not ask her to position her kin, homeland, and fellow Stormlanders in harms way for your cause when she herself will not be there. You appointed Gendry Lord of Storms End. The people have rejected him and that is not Brienne’s issue. It seems this is yours. They also do not recognize your authority in Westeros. They don’t know you.”

Daenerys turned to face Sansa more directly and narrowed her violet eyes. “And need I remind you that I am rightful heir to the Iron Throne. The lords and ladies of Westeros will do as I bid or face the same consequences as did the Lannister army who stood before me on the Goldroad! And as we have already discussed, the North _is_ under my command. I will not have one of our best soldiers sit idly on the sidelines while we fight for the crown. SER Brienne comes with us and that is final!”

Sansa tilted her chin up defiantly, nostrils flaring, and leaned forward to meet Daenerys’ stare. “No… Your Grace”

For the first time in his life, Tyrion was immediately glad of his statue as he stood between these two women. He could feel their equal fury radiating off their bodies. In a feeble attempt to diffuse the situation, Tyrion tried to intercede once more. “Your Grace, perhaps we can try with the Stormlanders again. Ser Davos knows Lord Tarth and he seems to be the primary voice of the Stormlands. If we send Gendry to treat with him, perhaps they can be swayed. If it comes at the cost of Brienne guarding her Lady, I don’t see the harm if we acquire the support of the Stormlands.”

Daenerys now rounded on Tyrion having lost all composure. “What part of I am the rightful heir is not resonating!?”

“But you’re not.” Bran’s calm, even tone delivered the words as though he was noting the weather or color of the sky.

“Excuse me?” Daenerys voice cut through the silence that had descended upon the room.

“I said, you’re not the heir to the Iron Throne. You never were.”

Now Daenerys eyes had turned into a storm as she shifted her focus to the broken boy in the wheelchair.

“Need I remind you that Jon Snow or Aegon… whatever you all see fit to call him… is dead. That makes me the last Targaryen and rightful heir to the Iron Throne. My _father’s_ throne!”

“But you’re not the last Targaryen. One other remains and with stronger claim.”

“What are you talking about? Speak clearly, enough of these riddles.” Daenerys spat.

A smile tugged at Bran’s lips as he looked up into the dragon’s eyes. “The Prince who was promised. Azor Ahai reborn. Lightbringer.” With his statement, Bran turned his eyes to Brienne. “The bleeding star; Tarth’s future Evenstar. Born between salt and smoke. Granddaughter of Prince Duncan and Jenny of Oldstones.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne POV next
> 
> OK so I know the lineage is a stretch. GRRM did confirm Ser Duncan the tall is related to Brienne and from the books we do know the Tarths have some Targaryen blood... but hey, if D&D can make Bran king...


	8. Bran II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bran POV with backstory first.

Bran’s visions came swirling to the forefront of his mind. The scene in the room gave way to the scene on the beach with smoke floating into the night sky, blotting out the stars. He turned back towards the castle towards which Lord Selwyn had run. 

Standing now at the foot of the birthing bed, the maester’s grave face looked to Lord Selwyn Tarth as he entered the room. The lord’s blue eyes were a storm of emotion as he ran to his wife and looked into her darkening violet eyes. “My moon. My star. What happened?” The maester pulled at Selwyn’s arm.

“My lord. She has lost a lot of blood. I’m doing the best I can, but I thought it best to bring you here just in case.” 

As he spoke to Selwyn, the lord’s eyes returned to his wife. He took her bloody hand and cradled it to his face. A baby’s cries echoed in the background as the midwives worked to clean the baby’s blood-stained skin. The lord’s wife urged her husband’s cheek up to meet her eyes.

“Promise me you will protect them Selwyn. Protect the children. In case I don’t survive this bed, promise me. If Aerys finds out, he will kill them.” The baby’s cries captured her attention and his wife whispered to him. “She has your eyes. I want to name her Brienne.”

The maester walked the newborn babe to Selwyn, now cleaned of the blood. Sapphires met sapphires before Selwyn looked back to his wife. “Are you certain? I had thought Jenny, after your mother.” A smile spread across his face. His wife turned away an inhaled sharply as the pain took her and her body’s strength began to drain. 

“It wouldn’t be safe. Just as we couldn’t name Galladon, Duncan. It would be too obvious.”

“Nonsense! Ser Duncan the Tall was my grandfather. No one would have known you intended the name for your father, Duncan Targ…” His wife cut him off with a finger and shushing before he finished the name. “Do not Selwyn! Teach them of your grandfather. Teach them of the Tarth lineage. Do not repeat my family’s names. They must believe me to be a Storm; bastard of the Stormlands.”

Selwyn let out a sigh and turned back to his baby daughter. Another star to fill his night sky. Second in line to bear the title of Evenstar should any harm befall his firstborn, Galladon. He knew his little family had stronger claim to the throne than Aerys as his wife was the only child of Prince Duncan and Jenny of Oldstones. The tragedy at Summerhall had taken the lives of his grandfather, Ser Duncan, and his wife’s parents and Grandfather, King Aegon V.

This world wasn’t safe for his children. Gods give them strength. Aerys had claimed the throne after the fire wiped out those he knew of with stronger claim. In the midst of the blazing fire at Summerhall and the chaos erupting in the palace, a chambermaid had escaped the inferno with Selwyn’s wife; a mere babe and unknown heir to the Iron Throne. They fled to Tarth where Selwyn’s parents sheltered the girl and raised her a Storm to protect her from Aerys who was already showing signs of madness. Tarth was the only safe haven for bastards or Targaryens seeking to hide their lineage. Their lines touched a couple of the great houses and no one thought more of it than that. Prince Duncan and Jenny had warned the chambermaid to look to Tarth should harm ever befall their family. 

Back in the war council, Bran shared his knowledge as the room stared at Brienne. “You’re a decedent of Ser Duncan the Tall!?… Amazing” Jaime’s awestruck tone rose from behind Brienne. Sansa quirked an eyebrow at the older Lannister brother before muttering, “You find out your lady knight in shining armor is heir to the Iron Throne, and your one takeaway is that her great-grandfather was a knight?”

“Ser Duncan wasn’t just a knight! He was one of the best if not the best!” Jaime’s clipped tone brokered no argument, but it was Daenerys who silenced them next.

“This is ridiculous. Even if the claim was true, Prince Duncan forfeited his right to the throne when he married Jenny. Everyone knows king Aegon disowned him and passed over the throne to Aerys as his heir… my father!’ 

Bran’s smile curled again. “Did you ever wonder why King Aegon perished in fire at Summerhall. Aerys knew he was going to make amends with Duncan when secrets of Jenny’s healthy pregnancy and birth swirled. He was reinstating Duncan as heir and declared so before the court at his visit. Aerys was behind the fire.”

Daenerys face went ashen as the news hit her like a blow to the gut. She took a step back and braced herself on the table while staring at Brienne. Brienne similarly wore a pained expression as she looked down at her feet.

Daenerys rounded the table towards Brienne, but as she approached her view was suddenly obstructed by Jaime whose hand reached for his sword.

“You dare threaten your queen!?” Daenerys barked; shocked by Jaime’s bold response to her nearing Brienne. Jaime smirked at her. “I would never! I’m _protecting my queen_ ”. Daenerys reeled back as though she was slapped. Before she could recover her wits, Jaime was flanked by Sansa and Tormund.

“I think we’ve had enough for one day wouldn’t you agree _Lady_ Daenerys?” Sansa retorted. Greyworm and the Dothraki rounded the table to stand beside Daenerys. Their hands similarly went to their weapons although not drawing them; mirroring Jaime’s posture.

“Easy lads. Wouldn’t want anyone spilling blood on your fancy southern furniture. And this one here is a killer of death, a knight, and heir to your silly throne.” Tormund’s words rang out and his chest puffed out with pride as he too reached his hand to his weapon.

“None of this will matter you know. No one will defeat Cersei if blood is spilled between our camps” Bran’s voice called out from behind the group. Only Tyrion remained in place standing to Bran’s side, his face drawn in confusion and conflict.

Daenerys spoke hurriedly in Valyrian to Greyworm, her eyes never leaving Brienne. 

“You will do no such thing!” Brienne’s voice commanded from behind Jaime, Tormund, and Sansa. Looks of shock directed their attention to Brienne. 

“You speak Valyrian…” Daenerys half muttered to herself, half stated to the room.

“The last time someone was shocked by another’s understanding of Valyrian, it was _you_ surprising the crowd _Dany_.” Bran’s words took on a slightly mocking tone as the blood further drained from Daenerys face.

“We’ll continue this discussion later. I think we would all do well to collect our thoughts and regroup on the morrow. Until then… _cousin_ …” Daenerys tried to muster an aura of confidence as she spoke the words, but her tone lacked its usual edge.

As Daenerys left in a swirl of skirts with her generals and Missandei quick to follow. Tyrion hesitated and slowly trailed behind; eyes glued to Brienne before turning back towards the door.

“Tyrion.” Tyrion turned to face his brother. “Make certain your queen doesn’t do anything rash. Keep her men away from Brienne. While the Starks honor guest right, there is a Lannister in the house. We always pay our debts.”

With a resigned look, Tyrion walked out the door. All eyes turned to Brienne. 

“Did you know?” Jaime’s tone softened as he faced Brienne. She fidgeted with the pommel of her sword as Jaime’s good hand came to rest over hers, searching her eyes for a reaction to all of this.

“I don’t want it.” Brienne deflected without answering the question. Arya made no attempt to conceal a snort and Sansa rolled her eyes. “Never heard that one before.” Sansa turned to those left in the room.

“Ser Davos, I think dragging Gendry to Tarth is unnecessary. Ser Royce, I want guards stationed outside Ser Brienne’s rooms at night until further notice. During the day, I want a team of guards with her at all times.”

“My lady that isn’t necessary! My place is guarding you.” Brienne interjected and stiffened at the insinuation that she would need protection.

Sansa turned back to her sworn sword, her friend, and smirked. “Your Grace, if you are the target of a queenslaying attempt, what good would it do me to be at your side. Seriously though Brienne, you have saved my life and guarded my back. Now let us shield yours.” She turned to exit the room but paused and looked over her shoulder with a mocking smile. “Given reputation however, do you really find it prudent to surround yourself with the Kingslayer?”

Jaime’s lip curled up as he peered down his nose at Sansa. “Rest assured Lady Sansa, she already wears my weapon. I fear the only one I have left use against her would bring her to knees for a decidedly different reason.”

No one was shocked by the right hook connecting with Jaime’s jaw; not even Jaime himself. Brienne stomped away, leaving Jaime a mess of limbs on the floor while yelling back over her shoulder, “I have to write my father. And don’t follow me Lannister!”

Bran smirked as he watched Tormund lean down to grab Jaime by the elbow and tug him upright. “You’re a lucky man kingkiller.” Tormund cocked an eyebrow and gave Jaime a jealous look. Suddenly, the wildling’s tone turned serious and his bushy brows flattened in worry. “Take care of her. We’ll take shifts watching her back too.”

Jaime slowly nodded at the wildling and headed towards Brienne’s chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne POV next


	9. Brienne II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne reacts to the events and deals with her favorite Lannister

This was no good. Her father had impressed upon her for years the importance of keeping this secret. Brienne thought back to her childhood. The constant secrecy. The loneliness.

According to the maester at Evenfall, her mother barely survived Brienne’s birth. For the first three years of her life, Brienne had a family. A mother, father, and older brother. When her mother fell pregnant with twins, the maester was frantic. He had advised against another birth for years and implored Lady Tarth to drink moon tea regularly. Then the twins came.

Brienne was four and while she doesn’t remember much from those early years of her life, she remembers the screams. Her mother’s pained cries from the birthing chamber. Her father’s screams of despair as Brienne’s mother slipped from this world. Within a year of their birth, her twin sisters died in the cradle. 

Brienne and her brother rarely saw their father after such loss within a year’s span. A year later when the sea claimed Galladon, Brienne started to think that seeing her father once a moon was a treat. He slipped into a deep depression. Brienne stumbled through her childhood and disappointed her septa at every turn. She tried to master everything Tarth required of its nobility. The only thing she seemed to excel at was her penmanship. She longed to pick up a sword, but her septa put an end to that quickly. Beyond that, Brienne struggled with her position. She learned the ancient languages, trained in needlework, tried (and failed) at the curtsey and courtly manners. She donned dresses and attended balls. She would have done anything for her father’s approval and attention, but nothing seemed to draw him out from his chambers.

Unaware of the passage of time as she stared into the flames, Brienne’s memories were interrupted by urgent knocking at her chamber door. Brienne pulled open the door to reveal Jaime leaning against the wall. His jaw had some proper swelling where she struck him and he wore an apologetic expression on his face. Brienne wanted to hear none of it.

She moved to shut the door in his face, only to see his golden hand fly between the doorframe and the door. “Please Brienne! It was a jape in poor taste. I’m sorry.” Brienne flung the door open again to see Jaime looking ashamed and red-faced as the two guards stationed outside stifled a laugh.

Grabbing Jaime by the tunic and yanking him into the room, she yelled back to the guards “piss off!” as she slammed the door in their faces.

Turning to face Jaime, she was caught off guard as he pulled a winter rose from his pocket. With a desperate, uneasy smile plastered on his face, Jaime mumbled another apology before looking back into her eyes.

 _Damn him and that face! Damn him straight to the Seven Hells!_ “You’re a real ass Jaime, you know that don’t you?” He shrugged helplessly and then threw his arms up in dramatic surrender. “Sansa started it! I couldn’t let her get the last word in.”

“So you place blame on a girl half your age and meanwhile make me to be your whore? I think I’ve had enough of that one particular nickname for my lifetime.” Jaime flinched at the mention of the nickname Brienne knew they both heard on several occasions during their trip through the Riverlands in Locke’s camp. Jaime let out a huff of air and rounded his shoulders in on himself. “I truly am sorry. I didn’t mean to besmirch your honor. I promise to only say those things once I have properly bedded you.” He flashed a cheeky smile and proceeded.

“Maybe one of these days you’ll let me fling you down, tear off your…” another fist was raised in warning and Jaime had the good sense to shut up this time. _This man would talk himself into death one of these days._

“What do you want Jaime? I’m tired. It has been a long day.” She looked longingly at her bed and back to this infuriating man that she couldn’t find a way to stop loving. _Gods be good he truly would be the death of her._ Jaime sighed and held out his hand to grasp hers. 

“I wanted to make certain you were OK. That was… a lot.” He looked into her eyes and she couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze.

“I’m fine. Just feeling a bit overwhelmed. I… I knew about my lineage. It wasn’t that I was trying to hide anything from you. It’s just…” She inhaled and before she could finish, Jaime’s false hand was held up in protest. “I understand more than most about the need to hide birth lines. I rather wish yours hadn’t come out as well. The thought of you taking the throne terrifies me. No good has ever come from that infernal chair. That throne seems to only bring harm to its occupants.”

“Right.” Brienne half stated, half sighed. “You have a good deal of experience with this sort of thing. I need to write my father. Figure all of this out. I don’t want the throne. I’ve only ever wanted to serve a king or queen that I believed in. I don’t want people following me. I’m not fit for court or to lead.”

Jaime huffed a laugh and locked eyes with hers. “You’re wrong. You would make an incredible queen. You are honest, just, and kind. Too kind for that sort of position. I worry about those around you. Power hungry, shallow, manipulative cunts. That’s all court is.” 

He pulled her into an embrace and buried his nose in her short, wavy, blonde hair. “I love you Brienne. I can’t risk losing you. You’re the only light in this world.”

Brienne looped her arms under his and squeezed his shoulders. “I’m scared Jaime. I wasn’t scared facing the army of the dead. I wasn’t scared leaving home to fight Renly’s war. But this… I can’t do this. I hate politics.”

Jaime sighed into her neck and pulled back to place a gentle kiss on her lips. “I won’t leave you Brienne. We can figure this out. We just need to survive this blasted war.” Jaime leaned back to look in her eyes “And um… I also don’t want to leave you tonight. I’m not entirely certain it is wise to bunk with my brother lest I strangle him myself for following that dragon queen. I would also feel better here. Knowing you’re safe. I don’t trust those dolt guards out there. I think I saw one of them in the yard the other day stabbing the dummy with the wrong end of the sword.”

Brienne rolled her eyes but gave an affirmative nod. “I need to write my father, but I’ll come to bed soon. Get some rest.” From the corner of her eye, she watched Jaime kickoff his boots and strip down to his small clothes.

Brienne set to the task of writing her father. She was never one with words and had to be careful about what details she included lest the letter fall into the wrong hands. As she looked over her letter, she heard Jaime’s voice behind her in that teasing lilt he so enjoyed speaking to her with. “Are you going to write him about me? Mayhap if you tell him that the Kingslayer is courting you, it will distract him from the woes about your lineage leaking out.”

“Yes, I’ll be certain to conclude my letter with. ‘Sorry father, need to go now. The Kingslayer is laying under my furs and threatening to fell me with his little sword if I don’t hurry up about it’.” Brienne’s lip turned up playfully as she turned to face Jaime.

Jaime feigned offense. “It’s not _that_ little I’ll have you know. Rather neglected for many moons, but if you need proof…” Jaime quickly found himself ducking from Brienne’s jerkin being thrown at his head.

“I think I saw more than enough of your little sword in the bathes once. No need to lose anymore layers to prove a point.”

“Good thing you couldn’t see below the bath waters then. That would really drive home the _point_.”

Brienne feigned disgust as she peeled off layers and donned her night shift. Crawling into bed, Jaime pulled her against his chest and tucked his knees behind hers. He placed a kiss on her neck and bid her goodnight. “Apologies in advance for my body’s actions once I’m asleep. I promise I am not holding you at knife point.”

This time, Brienne could not contain her laughter. Soon enough, she heard and felt the rhythmic sound of Jaime’s breathing behind her. It took some time for Brienne to fall asleep, but when she did, she dreamed of fire and blood raining down on her island.

Brienne awoke with a start gasping for air. Jaime was still asleep at her side but felt the weight shift and jolted upright next to her. Judging by the moonlight creeping in through the window, it was too early to rise. As she blinked back the terrors of her dream, Jaime wrapped his arms around her and spoke soothing words into her ear. “It’s alright Brienne. Just a dream. They plague me at times too.”

His words helped calm her racing heart, but she couldn’t shake the fear of any harm befalling her father on Tarth or her little family here in the north. Jaime pulled her back down onto his chest and kissed her forehead. His fingers brushed through her hair as she splayed her hand across his chest and hummed contentedly.

She looked up to meet his eyes and pressed a kiss to his lips. Within the same heartbeat, Jaime deepened the kiss. Sparks went off in the pit of Brienne’s stomach as was often the case when she found herself pressed against Jaime, lips locked in passion. The familiar sensation of heat pooling in her core began to spread as Jaime body pressed her back against the bed; his body half rolled on top of hers.

Brienne ran her hand through his once golden locks turned brown from lack of sunlight. The stubble of his jaw rubbed against her cheek as she felt his left hand push her night shift to the side; exposing the soft flesh of her neck. Their lips broke apart as Jaime dropped his lips to her neck and continued to let his good hand wander lower to her breast. Instinctively, Brienne’s body arched into his palm as Jaime fully positioned his body over hers. Jaime’s cock was stiff and grinding wantonly against her pelvis. She felt his head sway to the other side of her neck as his stump pushed open her shift on the other side. She felt Jaime take pause at the exposed scars from the bear. His stump resting over the markings.

The scars seemed to break the spell as his lust filled eyes clouded with an emotion that Brienne couldn’t entirely place. “Does it hurt?” Jaime asked, raising his eyes to meet hers. 

“Only at times; on particularly cold days or when certain memories plague my dream.” Brienne admitted and looked away. She inhaled as she reached for his stump and raised it to her lips. “I’m sure its nothing like the pain you feel.”. She looked back into his eyes which now held unshed tears. He swallowed deeply.

“Not as much as it would have pained me should they have hurt you or… worse.”

They fell into silence for a moment before Jaime spoke. “Forgive me, my lady, I only wanted to spend the night to protect and comfort you… well… and take refuge from my brother. I did not intend to dishonor you.”

Brienne huffed at Jaime’s words. “You do not dishonor me Jaime.”

Jaime’s lips pulled into a thin smile as he countered. “No, not yet. I shall marry you before all that.”

Instantly his smile faded and he looked quite serious. “Marry me Brienne. If you’ll have me.” She saw his eyes search hers. _This can’t be real, can it? How could he want me? He could have any woman in Westeros and he wants me? Great beast of a woman that I am._

Brienne broke eye contact and muttered. “I’m not made to be a wife. I’m a warrior. I would embarrass you. You deserve someone the courts would accept.”

Jaime’s lips turned down and he forced her eyes back to his. “You’re the maiden and warrior made flesh. Who says you can’t be a knight and a wife? I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want some pretty shell with a vacant head and an inability to knock me on my ass from time to time. I only want you. Unless… do you not wish to marry me?”

With a slight grin, Brienne ran her fingers through his shaggy locks. “Well… I did tell my father I would only marry a man who could best me in a fight.”

Jaime’s smile returned to his face. “I do recall getting the better of you on the bridge before we were so rudely interrupted some years back.”

“What!? I don’t recall knocking you on the head despite knocking you on your ass. You were NOT getting the better of me.” Brienne was indignant and only scowled further as Jaime’s laughter began filling the room.

“I suppose we’ll have to spar tomorrow to find out. This time my wrists won’t be bound and sore from having some wretched woman drag me about for weeks on end.” At this Brienne herself echoed his laughter.

“Yes, we’ll spar on the morrow. Maybe you’ll luck out and after pummeling you, pity will win out and I will still agree to wed you. Someone needs to keep you out of trouble.”

With a few more kisses and laughter on their lips. The two fell back into each other’s arms and drifted to sleep. At first light, Jaime was the one to wake this time.

“Fancy a spar?” Jaime nudged Brienne’s side as sapphire eyes opened to meet green eyes. Gods he was handsome and she still couldn’t believe the events of the past weeks. From defeating the knight king to having Jaime Lannister openly courting her and requesting her hand. To finding herself proclaimed heir to the Iron Throne while standing in a room containing some of Westeros’ most important political figures. 

“I would love a spar.”

Brienne and Jaime made their way to the yards. Like most days, soldiers from various camps were milling about, sparring, repairing the castle, or doing drills. Jaime and Brienne started to circle one another in an all too familiar dance. They opted to forgo their armor, trusting one another not to inflict bodily harm. Distantly, Brienne could see the group of five guards Sansa instructed to guard her. Absolutely frivolous.

As the knights broke a sweat, smiling throughout their exertion and hurling japes at one another, Brienne again let her mind wander to the surrealness of the situation. As she moved to disarm Jaime for the third time, she heard Tyrion’s voice calling to them from the castle gates.

Jaime groaned in response and met her eyes as she lowered Oathkeeper to her side. Before turning to his brother, Jaime pulled her against him and planted a firm kiss to her lips. “Give me a moment to run him through so I can have another go at disarming you. Then I can tell Tormund the good news.” Jaime’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he stepped away to walk towards Tyrion.

Brienne felt the threat before she could see it. Turning to her left, she saw the crossbow aimed at Jaime and the arrow hurtling towards him. _Gods no!_ She lunged towards him, knocking him to the ground. The arrow pierced through her left side and cut off her scream as a sharp pain spread throughout her body.

Brienne vaguely heard Jaime’s muffled screams as he scooped her into his arms. She could see his lips moving, but couldn’t understand him. Her face was wet. _Was it raining?_ No. Tears were pouring down Jaime’s face. In the distance, a blurry figure was knocked to the ground by Greyworm as Tyrion ran towards them.

Her world went black.


	10. Sansa II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets to the bottom of things and thinks about the war to come

Sansa paced frantically outside Brienne’s chambers. Inside the room, she heard Sam barking orders at Gilly while Jaime’s frantic voice argued with Maester Wolken. Why had she let that idiot go in there to distract them.

Before she was able to reach the door in effort to yank the lion from the room by the ear, she saw Tyrion marching hurriedly towards her. “Lady Sansa. You’re needed in the great hall. The prisoner has come to.”

Sansa felt her heartrate accelerate as she neared the entrance to the hall. Looking ahead, she saw an enraged Greyworm staring down at a chained man whose head lolled from side to side. Guards stood at the man’s side; one of the North and one of Daenerys camp.

As she approached to stand beside Greyworm, Sansa found herself looking down into the face of all too familiar man. Why couldn’t she place him? His greasy, black hair was slicked back and dried blood covered his face and jerkin. He was chained and rolling in on his left side in clear discomfort at what she assumed to be the cause of a broken rib or two.

Opening her mouth to speak, the sound of the great hall doors opening halted her words. Daenerys strode in with her friend/interpreter to her right. She followed Daenerys’ line of site to Tyrion whose own eyes were downcast with a look of equal parts worry and disgust etched across his face.

“Lord Tyrion. What of your _friend_ here?” Daenerys glared at the man in chains before looking back to her hand.

Tyrion glared at the man for a moment before responding. “Your Grace, this sellsword seems to have been sent north by my sweet sister. He claims he came alone, but in that I am not confident.” Tyrion’s words now directed toward the man before them. “Ser Bronn, may I present Lady Sansa and Queen Daenerys.” Sansa rolled her eyes at Daenerys’ title but bit her tongue.

Immediately, memories rushed to Sansa. She now recalled seeing this man during her time in King’s Landing. _Wasn’t he a friend of the brothers? Why was he here? Why had he tried to kill Jaime?_

Ser Bronn raised his head defiantly. “What have I always told you m’lord? I serve the highest bidder. This time, that happens to be your cunt of a sister. She’s not exactly pleased with you and your shit brother.” 

At his statement, Greyworm dropped the crossbow between Bronn and Tyrion. “We take this from him. I see him fire at your brother before the Ser Brienne took the arrow for him.” At Greyworm’s statement, Bronn snorted.

“Always knew those two were fuckin’! Just surprised he finally grew a pair and fucked off from King’s Landing.” Sansa looked to Tyrion whose face darkened and his fists clenched at his sides.

“What did I always tell you!? If anyone tried to pay you to kill me, I would offer you twice the sum!”

At his words, Bronn barked a laugh. “You Lannisters and your damn money. Where the fuck is my castle!? Where is the fuck is my pretty wife!? For years I put up with you and your damned brother. Nearly got myself killed at every turn with nary a debit paid. Fuck off. At least your bitch sister pays upfront.”

“Enough!” Daenerys yell pulled both men’s attention back to her. “I care not for your history together. You will give us details of Cersei’s position or you will die by dragon fire. Even with details, I may choose to feed you to my dragons. I remember you from the Goldroad. You shot my child!”

“Your child? Gods your cunt must look a mess birthing those beasts” The sellsword laughed at his own jape, only to be met with a swift punch to the side of his head from the Dothraki holding his wrists back in chains.

Sansa finally found her voice and stepped forward. “You will tell us what you know or by the Gods I will ensure the dragons look like a mercy compared to the punishment I will give if Brienne does not survive this.”

For the first time since she saw him in the great hall, Bronn looked frightened.

Some time later, Sansa again found herself again outside Brienne’s door. With a nod to the guards, she entered the room. Before her lay Brienne in the bed, motionless, pale, and asleep. Her bed had been stripped earlier as the pools of blood saturated the furs and left stains on the floor. There had been so much blood. Now her middle was heavily bound and Sansa could hear Brienne’s struggled breathing through her poppy induced sleep.

Jaime sat in a chair by her bedside, his head on her pillow, false hand outstretched under her head, and good hand stroking her cheek. At the sound of Sansa entering, his head shot up to meet Sansa’s eyes. 

His face was covered in tear streaks, eyes puffy and red. Sansa sighed and approached the other side of Brienne’s bed, pulling up a chair to sit opposite Jaime. She felt Jaime’s eyes track her movements as Sansa lifted a hand to brush a stray lock from Brienne’s face.

“Did you hear?” Sansa broke the silence while continuing to look at Brienne’s expressionless features.

“I don’t know what happened after she was hit. Everything was a blur. I…” Sansa looked up upon hearing the tears in his voice as he choked back a sob before continuing on. “I carried her here and haven’t left yet despite Wolken’s insistence. Did they apprehend who did this? Who among Daenerys’ men is responsible? I’ll kill the man!”

 _Gods damn it_. She did not want to be the one to break this news.

“Daenerys’ men ran to aid Ser Brienne and yourself. It was not them. Greyworm apprehended the assailant and the rest of Daenerys men have stood guard alongside our soldiers.” Sansa paused and observed the confusion settle over his face.

“The prisoner is in the cells. It seems your sister sent Ser Bronn to murder you and your brother. The arrow was intended for you.”

Sansa wasn’t certain what reaction she suspected, but she was not prepared for what came. Jaime shot up from his chair, knocking it backwards, and began madly pacing back and forth. A thousand thoughts seemed to cloud his face at once and his good hand fisted through his hair. He opened his mouth several times in attempt to speak but took pause every time as a new thought seemed to override the prior. Then his eyes settled on Brienne and Sansa saw Jaime’s shoulders roll back defiantly, chest puff out like a lion about to defend its pride.

His voice was tight with fury as he continued looking at Brienne’s unconscious form. “Lady Sansa. I will require a pen, parchment, and a raven. It seems I need to write a letter to my bannermen. And after… I would like to pay a visit to your _prisoner_.”

Sansa felt weary leaving Brienne’s room as she made her way towards the crypts. With Jaime finally taking a stand in this war, there was much to be done to ensure they did not lose this next battle. They also needed to be smart about their interactions with Daenerys. While Sansa was starting to sense a shift in power with Brienne’s claim revealed and Jaime calling his bannerman to join the North, they were currently one of three armies with a stake in the game.

Making her way down the stairs into the dark passage, she took a torch from the wall and proceeded to where she knew Arya would be.

“Arya.” Sansa slowly approached her sister who sat in front of Aunt Lyanna’s statue, which was now accompanied by Jon’s final resting place. Sansa had been worried about her sister since Jon’s fall. They had many conversations since the Long Night and while Sansa’s heart ached at the loss, she couldn’t image how Arya felt. 

Arya and Jon had always been close. Likely the closest of all the Starks in their childhood home. Arya had shared how Jon’s death happened the night the dead fell. Her eyes had been vacant, her voice distant and rattled. The last time Sansa had seen her sister look so small was before their parent’s death. Arya recounted her fight with the White Walker and her acceptance that she would meet death that night was it not for Jon. He sacrificed his life for hers. But why? Arya had been plagued with the question since that night.

Arya’s head slowly turned to meet Sansa’s narrowed eyes. The crypts were far from restored. Crumbled tombs and rubble from destroyed statues were swept to the sidewalls to make a walking path for the bodies of long dead Starks to be carried back to their resting places. Well... as much as they could discern whose body parts belonged where.

“Brienne is still unconscious, but Sam is hopeful she will pull through assuming Brienne can battle any infection that sets in.” Sansa offered what she hoped would be a positive update. Arya had been frantic since Brienne fell. Sansa suspected the loss of Brienne on top of the loss of Jon in such a short stretch of time would be too much.

“I informed Ser Jaime of Cersei’s hand in this. He is calling his bannermen. We’ll need to be careful in how we proceed. Daenerys will happily take additional forces targeting Cersei, but the dragon still thinks herself queen.”

At those words, Arya’s eyes shone with the confidence and determination Sansa had come to associate with the young wolf since her initial return home many moons ago.

“Then we’ll have to see to it she meets the many-faced god before she has the chance to sit on the throne.” Arya’s tone was sharp and Sansa feared this response.

“Arya, we need to think this through. We will need her in the war ahead. For now, her generals seem to respect Brienne enough that they came to her aid and are helping shield her in addition to Daenerys. We need to unite for this next war. You heard Bran’s words. We will figure out how to deal with Daenerys, but first we must focus our energy on Cersei. Brienne sent a raven to her father this morning before she and Jaime made their way to the yard. I don’t know what information the letter contained, but I’ll need to update Lord Selwyn and hope he joins our fight.”

With an understanding nod, Arya turned back to the tombs of her aunt and brother-cousin. “Fine. We discuss Daenerys later. First a girl has a final name to cross off her list.” At this, Sansa suspected that perhaps Arya understood now why she was meant to survive the battle with the dead with Jon’s ultimate sacrifice.

It seemed Cersei’s time was nearing its end if they played their hand properly.


	11. Jaime III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravens return and plans are made

Near a week had passed and Brienne had yet to wake. Jaime hoped this was due to the regular dose of milk of the poppy that Wolken kept coming by to administer and not a sign of things to come. After his visit to Bronn in the cells, Jaime found his initial rage was not quelled. The final string connecting him to his sister had snapped. Jaime knew she had to die. While part of Jaime did hope he wouldn’t have to deliver the fatal blow himself, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate if it came to that. 

Sighing, he leaned forward in his chair to rest his head against Brienne’s pillow; willing her eyes to open and meet his. Aside from the brief _meeting_ with Bronn, he couldn’t bring himself to leave her side. _What if she doesn’t wake up? What if fever takes hold and steals her away from me? What if another assailant comes? What if I didn’t insist on sparring without armor? What if what if what if…_

Jaime expected ravens to return any day now from the Riverlands and Aunt Genna at Casterly Rock. No matter the response, he would march south to ensure Cersei’s fall. His mind wandered back to those early days in the Riverlands with Brienne. She had infuriated him. An obstacle between him and what he thought was his destined place in this world; Cersei’s side. He delivered cutting remark after cutting remark in attempt to distract her from the task at hand. Leave enough room for a lapse in judgement wherein he could commandeer her sword and end the nonsense, but the stubborn wench barely flinched at his barrage of insults.

If he was being honest with himself, it was the day she slew three Stark men that he found it more difficult to continue the effort to emotionally disarm her. Not that he was succeeding in his attempt to unmoor her; more like failing spectacularly.

The growing respect for her only increased tenfold after their fight on the bridge. Oh and he knew it. He had lost to her. What he wouldn’t give now to have two hands and full strength to enjoy a real spar with her. Once they were captives together, his respect gave way to a new, surprising feeling directed at her; fear. He knew what men like Locke’s would do to her. Looking back, he knew he would do it all again for her. The hand, the near death by bear. Hells he would even offer up his second hand if it meant keeping her alive.

Back then he wouldn’t call it love. He wasn’t even certain he knew what love truly was at that point in his life being so convinced that Cersei embodied that emotional condition. He did however recognize that something had shifted after the bathes; after the armor and the sword; after the tent at Riverrun. He was sick of sending her away. Of watching her leave. The fissures in his heart created by Cersei were mended one by one by Brienne.

His thoughts were cut off by the fluttering of eyes. Pools of sapphires met his eyes and his heart jumped into this throat. Brienne. 

“You’re awake! Are you in pain? Should I get the maester? What were you thinking!? Stupid, stubborn, amazing woman! You could have been killed!”

“Jaime… slow down…I…” Her sharp inhale and wince stopped him dead in his tracks. Leaning over her, Jaime quickly took appraisal of her wrappings; ensuring no active bleeding was present.

“Brienne be still. Your wounds.” His hand grazed her side and he felt his chest tighten at the thought of those wounds nearly shutting those beautiful eyes forever. Jaime looked back at Brienne and brought his hand to her cheek. Caressing her cheek with his thumb, Jaime took a deep breath. “Gods you scared me. I can’t lose you Brienne.” He felt tears prick at the back of his eyes.

Leaning down he placed a gentle kiss on her mouth. He spent the next half hour bringing her up to speed on everything. She mostly listened; likely too pained to interject. As he laced his fingers with hers, a knock came at the door.

“Ser Jaime” Pod peered around the door “They are ready for you in the courtyard.” Pod’s eyes landed on Brienne and he beamed at his lady knight. “My lad… ser! You’re awake!”

Jaime looked back to Brienne. “I’ll be right back wench. Need to tend to something and if you don’t mind, I’ll need to borrow your sword.” One last kiss to Brienne’s lips and he headed towards the door. Jaime leaned into Pod’s ear and whispered. “Make sure she doesn’t do anything foolish like try to get up. I’ll bring Maester Wolken back with me after its done.”

Striding into the courtyard with Oathkeeper at this side, Jaime marched forward as the sea of Northmen, Wildlings, Dothraki, Unsullied, and Vale soldiers parted for him. With every exhale, his breath puffed smoke into the cool, Northern air. Sansa, Arya, Bran, Ser Royce, and Ser Davos stood to the left. Daenerys, Greyworm, a Dothraki, and Missandei stood to the right. Ser Bronn was on his knees, shoulders held firmly in place by Tormund.

Jaime joined Tormund next to Bronn as his noticed his brother step forward from the shadows. Tyrion glared at Bronn and cleared his throat.

“Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. You are guilty of conspiracy to commit murder against Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock. Warden of the West. You are guilty of the attempted murder of Ser Brienne of Tarth. A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Heir to the Iron Throne.” _Oh now that is interesting._ Jaime thought. _I shall have to ask little brother about our newfound agreement on title later._ “Sworn sword to the Warden of the North. Do you have any last words?”

Ser Bronn looked to Tyrion and then up at Jaime. “I’ll see you cunts in the seven hells.” With a wink at Jaime, the sellsword continued “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your sister company until then.”

Jaime leaned down and spoke with barely concealed anger. “You’re lucky the future Lady of the Rock just woke up or I might have considered an errant swing on my first hack. You know how difficult sword handling can be, what with one hand and all. This might take a few hacks.”

Bronn’s eyes showed a flicker of fear before looking down and placing his head on the block.

With that, Jaime raised Oathkeeper above his head and struck true, slicing through Bronn’s neck. The vision of Brienne swam through his mind as the severed head and exposed arties squirted, thick, dark blood onto the icy ground beneath Bronn’s now headless form. The sellsword’s head rolled to the feet of Sansa as Jaime’s eyes rose to meet the lady of Winterfell; a satisfied smirk on her face. She stepped casually over Bronn’s blood-soaked head and walked up to Jaime, producing a letter from her pocket. 

Taking the letter and observing the unbroken Lannister seal, Jaime took the paper in hand and opened it. Reading the parchment quickly, a thin smile spread across his face as he looked back to Sansa. She raised a knowing brow to him and spoke loud enough for all assembled to hear. “I suppose a Lannister does pay his debts.”

Looking up to the masses without moving from her spot, Sansa spoke in a commanding tone. “Our hero of the Long Night is awake. It would appear Ser Bronn here lost his mind, what with the ill-advised attempt on Ser Brienne’s life. I believe the debt is still unpaid. He was merely the messenger. Cersei sits on her throne in the south, plotting against us after failing to provide aid in the war against the dead.” Producing another letter from her coat, Sansa held it up in the air. 

“The Stormlands do not take kindly to the assassination attempt of Tarth’s future Evenstar. The might of the Stormlands, all 5,000 strong, prepare to march on Kings Landing within a moon’s turn. The Second Sons from across the Narrow Sea sail to meet with the loyalists from Dorne to add another 3,000 to the attack from the south. The Westerlands have renounced loyalty to Cersei at the behest of their Lord and Warden who marches to avenge Ser Brienne. What say you Northmen? Shall we sit idle within these castle walls or shall we join the Unsullied and Dothraki on the march south?”

Sansa’s eyes turned back to Jaime’s and he watched as her smirk grow. She knew the response from her people before it was delivered. It started amongst a few and spread like wildfire. Loud and echoing off the dilapidated walls of Winterfell, Jaime pondered for a moment if their cries could be heard all the way from Kings Landing. Tormund looked to his men and they joined in the chorus as well.

“For Ser Brienne! For Ser Brienne! For Ser Brienne!”

Jaime kept his eyes on Sansa as she turned to look back towards Daenerys. Lifting her chin, she spoke again.

“The North Remembers”


	12. Tyrion III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains mention of past rape or attempted rape. No details included, but just want to throw that out there. 
> 
> Tyrion meets with Daenerys and has some explaining to do.

“Heir to the Iron Throne!” Tyrion flinched as Daenerys rounded on him, hands fisting at her side, unbridled rage in her eyes.

“Your Grace, hear me out” Tyrion sucked in a breath before continuing. “Did you see those men out there? I’ve been trying to explain this to you since we landed on Dragonstone. We can’t win the throne on fire and blood alone. That is the very thing that lost your father his throne.”

Daenerys turned her head away at the mention of her father. Tyrion pressed on.

“The rest of Westeros is not unlike the North. They are weary of Targaryen sovereigns. Stubborn in their refusal to forget recent wrongs. Quick to accept those whose actions seem favorable to their own cause. Ser Brienne is to marry my brother. That brings her the West. She is sworn sword to the Starks and the bloody North claims her Azor Ahai reborn. She is a hero to them. That brings her the North, the Vale, AND the Riverlands thanks to Sansa’s far reaching influence. The Wildlings adore her for her fighting prowess and willingness to stand amongst them on the frontlines. Her own father and island bring her the Stormlands. Hells your own army of Dothraki and Unsullied respect and seek to protect her!”

Greyworm flinched at his name’s mention, but did not contest Tyrion’s sentiment. Tyrion had seen the awe in the eyes of Unsullied and Dothraki alike every morning as Brienne took to the yard and cut down man after man. Yes, Tyrion had made many mistakes over the past year, but he was still as observant as ever and every place he wandered, every conversation he had, was to serve his objective and agenda.

“So what would you have me do!? Just give her the throne!? I fought to get where I am. I’ve endured being sold to an unknown, savage by my own kin. I’ve endured rape in my bridal bed and my rapist’s seed quickening in my belly. I’ve endured loss of a child before its birth. Loss off a husband before his time once we eventually built love. I’ve freed cities. Survived wars. Thwarted assassination attempts. Sacrificed one of my children to prove a point to a woman, your sister, who wouldn’t send aid for her own people. I’ve abandoned my own cause to aid the very kingdom that now turns their back on me in favor of a woman who wants no part in court! A woman mind you who is set to marry the very man who murdered my father!”

Tyrion sighed and took pause to ensure his next point was delivered with enough stable undercurrent in his tone to ensure she understood. “I don’t claim to imagine all you’ve been through and sacrificed to get here, but let me ask you this. When we first met you said you wanted to break the wheel. What does that truly mean to you? You can’t win this war without compromise and working with the Westerosi. Even if it means… leading them on.”

“What? I’ve no time for riddles Tyrion, what do you mean?”

“I mean, let the people think you recognize Brienne’s claim. Let them think you mean to support your kin. United, we can defeat Cersei. Then, we can discuss how to _relieve_ Brienne of her position.”

“You would betray your own brother and goodsister? Why should I trust your advice? You’ve been attached to their hips since the Kingslayer arrived here _without_ an army.”

Tyrion inhaled sharply and looked into the Dragon Queen’s eyes. “I murdered my own father for his mere desire to send me to the Wall and denying my claim to Casterly Rock when his only other son refused to leave the Kingsguard to continue chasing after his own twin’s skirts. I murdered my lover for betraying me in front of the court and sleeping with my father behind my back. I murdered my own mother just by existing.”

Daenerys face went slack in shock and slowly pulled back into an unreadable mask. “And what have your brother and Brienne done to earn your betrayal?”

Without missing a beat, Tyrion looked defiantly into her eyes. “They’ve stolen my future.” Daenerys cocked an eyebrow at him and waited for him to continue. 

Tyrion walked to the table set in the corner of Daenerys room where she had summoned him after Bronn’s execution. He reached for the jug of wine and poured two cups. Handing one to her before raising his own to his lips, Tyrion continued. “With you as Queen, I have a future. I will be hand of the Queen and hold respect and power in Westeros. I will stand to inherit the Rock which should have been declared mine the moment my brother joined the Kingsguard years ago.”

Tyrion paused to take another sip of his wine. “With Brienne as Queen and Jaime at her side, I have nothing. With my brother still in the picture, the West will refuse to accept me as their Lord and Warden. They have always demonized me thanks to my father and my perfect brother is a more desirable option. Further, Jaime has ALWAYS picked Cersei over me. He broke my heart time and time again. No matter what she did, no matter how she tortured me, he always sided with her.”

Daenerys narrowed her eyes at him considering his point. “And what of Brienne? What has she done to deserve the same fate as your brother?”

Tyrion’s face darkened as he took pause and looked into his cup of wine. “She made me realize that it wasn’t Cersei who kept my brother from being the only family to love and accept me. I simply wasn’t good enough. It was easy enough to accept Jaime would cast me aside when I believed he would never pick anyone over Cersei. I almost started to believe the absurd ‘two halves of one soul’ story my sister shoved down his throat for years to keep him at heel. Then Brienne came along. He lost his identify for her. His sword hand was a price he happily paid just to spare her from the same tortures people suffer every day. He jumped into a bear pit for her. He risked the wrath of my father and sister to send her off to safety in search of Sansa, armed and armored. He rode north alone surely knowing you or the Starks would likely strike him down before he made it through the gate, simply to have the chance to fight death by her side. Brienne stole what little hope I had of family from me.”

Daenerys lips curled upward in response to Tyrion’s admissions. “So… what do we do next.”

Tyrion exhaled deeply and set his cup down on the table. Hours later when he emerged from Daenerys room, he headed to bed and thought about what lay ahead.

The next day, everyone filed into the war council room. As had become customary, the Westerosi were present before Daenerys and her guards came in. Tyrion entered the room and caught the end of a conversation between his brother and the wildling leader.

“I don’t believe you! How can she have been awake since yesterday and still not ask after me.” The wildling barked out a laugh at his own comment while playfully giving a hard punch to Jaime’s arm. Jaime tried to cover the wince as his false hand instinctively reached for his good arm.

“No matter. Let her know I’m happy to hear she is well. And be sure to remind her that if she changes her mind…” Tormund raised his bushy brows suggestively and Jaime scowled. Tyrion observed the speed at which his brother’s delight broke through the scowl given the topic of conversation was his recovering lady knight. As Tyrion walked by, he made a concerted effort to avoid his brother’s gaze. The mood of the entire room seemed much lighter than days prior.

Daenerys entered the room next and the conversation around the table immediately died down. As the arrivals moved to their usual spots around the map, Varys began his update.

“As mentioned yesterday, the Stormlanders, Dorne contingent, and Second Sons are set to reach King’s Landing in a moon’s turn. The army in the Westerlands is preparing to make the journey and will pass through to Riverrun to meet with their forces stationed at Riverrun. Any remaining Tully forces will join them. They will march towards the Goldroad and hold camp to the immediate west. Their journey should take less time, so they will leave in a fortnight so as not to raise suspicion of the crown with an army camped, THE Lannister army, not far from the capital. Our forces will need to leave on the morrow to time everything perfectly and meet those gathered at the Goldroad. The southern armies will camp just to the south. Yara has already departed the Iron Islands with the remaining Iron Born to sail around Westeros and prepare to engage Euron’s fleet on Blackwater Bay.”

As Varys summarized everything, Tyrion observed the heads nodding in agreement throughout the room. Tyrion then began.

“Every camp will send their commander to meet on the Goldroad and discuss strategy for the attack. We don’t want to risk details being sent by raven as Cersei’s spies could catch wind of our plans.”

Tyrion again looked around the group to see affirmative nods from all present. Everyone except Bran who just stared at him blankly. Unnerved by the boy, Tyrion pressed on. “The dragons will need to be held at enough distance from King’s Landing to not be seen. They will travel with Daenerys and her army on the morrow with the rest of the north’s forces. Are there any questions?”

Looking around the room, no one made move to speak. Tyrion couldn’t help but notice the odd look from Sansa who glanced back at her brother. After a moment, Sansa turned her eyes to the group gathered.

“And what of plans for after the battle? We should discuss this now given the chaos likely to ensue when Cersei falls. Someone will need to claim the throne.”

With that, both camps looked across the table to the opposing camp. It was Daenerys who broke the silence.

“I’ve spoken with Lord Tyrion and we have a proposal.” Tyrion’s eyes shot to Sansa and then Jaime. Both glanced between each other before turning back to Daenerys.

“I would forfeit my claim to the crown and support Brienne on one condition. Should she not want the crown or should she fall, you will all support my claim as next in line for the throne.”

Tyrion again looked to Sansa and Jaime to gauge their reaction. Sansa looked surprised, but Jaime looked skeptical and worried. Jaime looked ready to speak up when Sansa beat him to it.

“And why have you suddenly given up your claim now? You’ve been nothing short of obsessed with seeing our people bend the knee since you arrived. You hardly seemed thrilled with the truth of Ser Brienne’s lineage coming out not even a fortnight ago. We are to suddenly trust you will simply leave after the crown is won?”

Daenerys sucked in a breath and tilted up her chin. “I’m no fool. You Westerosi have refused to accept me since I arrived even though I brought my armies and dragons to your aid in the fight against the dead. If I were to sit on the throne now, I don’t trust any of you to remain loyal. I have no desire to end up stabbed in the back as my father was.” At that, Daenerys cast a pointed glance at Jaime before continuing.

“I would not leave Westeros. I would sit at my ancestral home, Dragonstone, while still controlling the Free Cities through my armies across the Narrow Sea. I would request a place in court to get to know the other great houses. I would look to build a place for myself in Westeros alongside my only remaining kin as _it should have been_ before I had to flee for my life upon my father’s murder. And as I said, should Ser Brienne seek to abdicate the throne, fail to produce an heir, or fall… I would be next in line. With these conditions, I would bend the knee to Ser Brienne.”

The Westerosi turned to Sansa who turned to Bran. With a soft nod of approval, Sansa turned back to Daenerys. “We accept these conditions. Welcome to Westeros Lady Daenerys.” A small smile spread across Sansa’s face which Daenerys returned.

As the council prepared to adjourn, Tyrion addressed Sansa. “Lady Sansa, where is Lady Arya? I haven’t seen her since _her Grace_ was attacked in the yard.”

Before Sansa could respond, Bran’s steady voice rose above the crowd and a small smile spread across his face. “She’s gone to meet an old friend. I’m sure we’ll see her soon enough.” 


	13. Jaime IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime tracks down his brother and speaks with Brienne.

“Tyrion! Wait up!” Tyrion’s pace slowed as Jaime ran up to his little brother. “Can we speak please?”

Tyrion looked up, forcing a smile. His tone was clipped. “How can I help you brother? I think we both have much to prepare if we are to leave on the morrow.”

A strange sensation washed over Jaime. _Is Tyrion upset with me? Granted I have been a bit preoccupied with Brienne of late, but surely he understands._

“We haven’t had a proper conversation in some days. Can we go somewhere more private?” Tyrion looked around at the crowded hallways and returned looked back to Jaime. “Why don’t we go to my room? Hopefully we can find some of that piss the North calls wine along the way.”

Minutes later as the brothers entered Tyrion’s chambers, a pilfered jug of wine and cups in hand, the brothers sat at the table near the fireplace. An awkward silence fell over the brothers as each seemed to search for a place to start. Jaime observed the bed had been moved since he no longer occupied a space on Tyrion’s floor near the fire. Books from Winterfell’s library littered the floor. Discarded wine cups lay scattered about, attracting fruit flies. Jaime sighed and spoke first.

“Love what you’ve done with the place. Very… homey.” Jaime smirked as he watched a perturbed expression take shape across his brother’s face. “A pleasant musk of wine, celibacy, and dusty books that haven’t seen the light of day since Aegon the Conqueror rode in on his dragon.”

A smile spread across Tyrion’s face and his shoulders relaxed as he leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his wine. Jaime’s matching smile soon gave way to a frown.

“Do you trust her?”

Tyrion looked up from his cup and considered Jaime’s question.

“I do. Sure she can be a bit prickly and haughty, but she learned from the best. I’m sure Lady Sansa will keep to her word.” A smirk spread across Tyrion’s face as Jaime felt his own smile fall.

“You know quite well who I meant!”

“Oh? The other angry woman occupying the war room? Yes, I trust Daenerys. I’ve spent years fighting alongside her. She wants to break the wheel. She is a strong and fair ruler. Not Aerys. I’ve seen it for myself in my time across the Narrow Sea. Hell she even believes in me when no one else would! She wants to prove herself to everyone in Westeros so much that she is willing to give it all up to gain everyone’s trust and approval.”

Jaime took in his words and looked down at his cup. He was still leery of Daenerys, but he trusted his little brother. His only real friend in this world aside from Brienne.

“I wish there was another way. I don’t want Brienne on the throne. I had promised her we would find a way out of it.” Tyrion looked surprised at that.

“No? And here I thought you were destined to only bed queens.” Jaime winced at the accusation and fought to stuff down his natural inclination to use humor to escape the truth.

“No. You don’t understand. Brienne and I are knights. We just want to serve an honorable ruler.” Jaime exhaled loudly and looked to the ceiling in frustration. “If it were up to me, I would get her on a boat to Essos tomorrow. We could live out our days as hedge knights. Raise a brood of little warriors.” Jaime could feel the smile spread across his face at the vision appearing in his mind’s eye. Him, Brienne, and their brood of ten blonde, sapphire eyed, little warriors.

“Oh… you envision the two of you would produce _little_ child. And here I expected my next niece or nephew would be holding me at their birth.” Tyrion responded with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Jaime couldn’t suppress the wide smile that spread across his face as the brothers shared a laugh together.

“You truly love her.” It was a statement, not a question, but Jaime couldn’t stop himself from confirming it nonetheless.

“More than anything.” 

Tyrion’s face lost a bit of its mirth. “Yes, I thought as much. Well, I do have a lot of preparations to make. While I don’t intend to join this battle, I will be accompanying and advising Daenerys on the way. Perhaps we can break our fast together before we depart.”

“Yes, I would like that. Well I suppose I should prepare as well. Wouldn’t want to forget to pack the one tunic I rode north in. I’ll see you in the great hall then?”

“Yes. See you then. Goodnight Jaime.”

Jaime made his way back to their room. _Their room_. He finally had someone he could share a room with. He didn’t have to sneak out after stolen minutes. He didn’t need to hide his affections for his love. He could love this queen publicly. _His queen_. Regardless of title in court, she would have been Jaime’s queen no matter what.

As he approached their door, he found his two favorite guards standing outside the doors. He gave a small laugh and shake of the head as he moved to open the door. From the other side, he could hear raised voice. _Oh Gods now what._

Pushing the door open, he saw a flurry of activity and heard Sansa’s imploring tone. “You’ve absolutely lost your wits! You can barely stand! Please sit down and think this through!”

Brienne’s face was flushed and her limbs shaky as she threw various items in a large satchel on the table. Before he could speak, Brienne’s voice filled the room. “Lady Sansa please! I… I have to do this. My father… these… these people spoke for me. I can’t leave them all now. I…” Before she could finish, her breathing hitched and she grabbed at her side, doubling over in pain. Jaime could see trace amounts of blood pooling where he knew her stitches were.

Jaime ran to her side and held her upright. “Brienne what on earth are you doing!?”

Brienne gasped for air and failed to muster a reply as Sansa strode over. “She means to march south with you all! She won’t listen to reason.”

Jaime couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He pulled his head back to look into Brienne’s pain filled eyes. “Tell me this isn’t true. Brienne you can’t! You can barely stand.”

Just then, Pod came running into the room, dropping Brienne’s armor across the floor in his haste. The crashing sounds of metal hitting stone halted all conversation in the room as everyone’s eyes turned to Pod.

“Sorry my lady.. I mean Ser.. I mean Your Grace. My Lady Ser Grace.” Pod looked down at his feet and started to collect the scattered armor all the while mumbling apologies to seemingly no one.

“Pod stop that. Its… just.. Brienne.” Jaime felt her struggling to speak the words and her body began to double over again. Without wasting another moment, Jaime scooped her up and walked towards the bed, careful to avoid her limbs, flailing in protest.

“Jaime! Enough! Put… me… down…” With that, Jaime looked at her and shrugged “OK” as he lowered her onto the bed. Seated on the bed beside her and holding down her shoulders, Jaime spoke firmly. “Wench, you must stop this nonsense. There is more at stake here than you realize! I can’t have you risk your life. There are more than enough of us to handle this battle. You need to focus on recovery.”

Before Brienne could speak again, Sansa spoke up. “Brienne please. Hear us out. I was trying to tell you this before, but we’ve made a deal with Daenerys. If you die, she is heir.” At that, Brienne’s thrashing about stopped and her eyes widened. 

“What? I don’t understand.” Jaime and Sansa exchanged a glance.

“Brienne.” Brienne turned to meet Jaime’s eyes as he continued “You’ve been named Queen. Daenerys has agreed. We march tomorrow to claim your crown, but if you fall…” Jaime paused and saw understanding flash through her eyes.

Brienne a breath and spoke. “The Dragon Queen will have uncontested rule over Westeros. Fire and Blood.” Brienne looked down and shook her head. Jaime’s heart broke for her. For their future. Everything they hoped for scattered to the wind. 

He knew he promised her that they would find a way out of this mess. Find a way to pass on the crown to someone else. She would abdicate quietly in favor of someone trustworthy who wanted it. Both had mused that Sansa would make a fair queen. They could retire quietly to Tarth or Casterly Rock. But no. A room of political leaders made a deal with the Stranger himself. Jaime felt guilt and his lack of effort in stopping it. In that moment, all he that crossed his mind was attempting to find a way to avoid a second war from breaking out once Cersei fell. Even if their numbers were even between the remaining camps, Daenerys had dragons and he had seen firsthand what they could do. He couldn’t risk losing Brienne.

Jaime lifted her chin with his fingers and there was a wordless exchange. Then Jaime spoke again. “I’m so sorry Brienne. You do realize you can’t come with us though. You’ll stay here, with Sansa and a group of guards. When the battle is won and it is safe, you’ll make your way south… for your coronation.”

Tears filled Jaime’s and Brienne’s eyes and Sansa sat down on the other side of the bed. One hand cupped her own head while the other reached blindly behind her to grasp at Brienne’s arm.

“Sooo… should I bring the armor back to the armory?” All eyes turned to Pod whose own eyes darted frantically between the three.


	14. Brienne III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final day together before the march south

After Pod and Sansa left the room, Brienne lay staring at the ceiling while Jaime traced lazy lines on her arm and neck. She didn’t have a crown on her head yet and she already felt the pressure of an entire realm bearing down on her chest. It was enough to make her injury feel like a papercut.

With a sigh, Brienne turned to face Jaime. “Maybe I should go with you. I can stay back at the camps when the siege begins.” She already knew Jaime’s response before it came.

“Gods you’re insufferable. I thought we were past this. You couldn’t even cross the room to shove clothing into a big without your wound opening. You could barely speak from the physical labor. How would you even mount a horse!?”

Brienne looked back to the ceiling and bit her lip. “That’s not why it was bleeding. I… might have been moving around a bit earlier.”

Jaime shot up to a seated position at that. “Do I even want to know what you were doing?”

Brienne let out a sigh and propped herself up on her elbows. “I hate being bedridden. Since yesterday when I awoke, I’ve been taking the few opportunities when you leave the room to do some… light drills… here, in the room.”

Jaime’s mouth started flapping like a fish. Before he could muster a response, Brienne continued. “I heard everyone yesterday morning. At the execution. I told you before I don’t want people following me. Dying for me. I’m not worth it.”

At her statement, Jaime’s mouth set into a firm line and he faced her more directly. “Don’t you say that! You are worth everything. Daenerys demands the crown just because some Targaryen squirted their seed into a welcoming womb and out she came. You were chosen by those people out there. I wish I could stop it for you. I know you don’t want it, but they aren’t wrong in wanting you.”

 _What is he on about! I’m just an ugly soldier who represents a better option than a mad woman with dragons._ “Jaime! Considering the woman laying claim to the throne, I’m certain they would just as soon elect a wight!”

“A wight Brienne… really? And what if not a wight? Bran? Oh that would make a fun king.” Jaime huffed in exasperation as the sarcasm dripped from his words.

Brienne inhaled and lowered herself back down. “Well it doesn’t matter now. Its done. She is probably hoping I either die on the way south or at least die before an heir is so much as thought about.” At her own words, Brienne let out a barking laugh. “Maybe I should have let you wield your little sword sooner. Wouldn’t that be something to piss her off. Me showing up after all the fighting only to already have an heir on the way.”

Brienne looked into his eyes with mirth in her sapphire pools, but her mirth was not mirrored. She did not like what she saw. Jaime’s eyes came alight, and a smile tugged at this lips. “Now that might be the best idea you’ve had yet.”

“Jaime… what are you on about? I don’t like that look on your face.”

“Brienne, marry me today. We can have something proper after the war. Maybe on Tarth?”

 _He has lost his mind._ “What!? We are in the middle of the bloody north Jaime. I don’t think these people even know what a Septon is.” 

Jaime leapt to his feet and started pacing wildly in front of her. He looked like a green squire receiving his first sword from Ser Arthur Dayne himself. _Did he even hear me? He looks possessed._ “We don’t need a Sept or a Septon. We can make our vows in front of the new guards after the war. The Starks say their vows to the old Gods, don’t they? In front of those creepy trees. Hells I’m fairly certain Bran has been courting one of those trees since I arrived.”

“But… why?”

Jaime’s eyes were pleading. “Brienne, if I fall and we are wed, you lose nothing in terms of position. You will have married me, so my bannerman will stay by your side. I know they will. The Rock will be yours by right. I know Tyrion would support you, but if I die, they would never accept Tyrion as their Lord. You heard their first response to his plea for support. They won’t have him. I can only hope to encourage their acceptance of him by staying alive and backing him.”

Brienne took in his words. Jaime pressed on as she digested the words.

“If I fall and we _have not_ wed, I’m not certain they will fight with the North, Dorne, Vale, and Stormlands. Not after recent history between our houses.”

He’s right damn him. The Westerlands hold the most numbers. Westeros would dissolve into bloodshed. No one would come out the victor with three armies vying for the vacant throne.

“You… have a point.”

That blasted cocky smirk spread across his face. “Yes, I do have _a point_. Wouldn’t that be a lovely bonus to this. An heir to _relieve_ Daenerys of her concern over any line of succession should you not live through the year. When was your last moon blood?”

“Jaime! You are disgusting. Truly. For once you have a reasonable idea and then you say that. Ask me that. Ugh”

Now the fool was laughing at her. “Oh come now. It was a jape… kind of. I don’t image I could get a babe on you that quick. I’m good, but I’m not _that good_.”

_Ugh the bloody idiot. When was my last moon blood though? Must have been a fortnight ago. Certainly not long before that blasted arrow left me confined to this bed. I suppose I’ll need to start thinking more carefully about my courses; planning better. Gods I should really learn how to make moon tea._

Inhaling sharply, Brienne pressed on. “Well regardless of you debase line of questioning, I wouldn’t know the first thing about Northern vows and procedure. Do you know?”

At that Jaime’s laughter died and he scratched his head. “No, I don’t.” Then the thought hit him and that blasted smirk returned. 

“Fortunately for us, the very family you serve happen to be of the North. I’m certain they can tell us what needs to be done. We should probably keep this between us though. I still don’t trust Daenerys’ camp. I’m not even certain about Tyrion. He really believes in her. My poor, fool of a brother. I hope for his sake she is true.”

Jaime dropped his hand from his hair and looked directly at Brienne while extending his hand to her. “My Grace… shall we find your lady?”

Brienne swatted his hand away with a huff as Jaime let loose another chuckle. After standing up, turning towards the door, and ensuring he couldn’t see her face, a smile tugged at her lips. _Insufferable, arrogant, cocky man. Honorable, kind, lovable oaf._ Brienne marched to the door, but took pause when she didn’t hear footsteps fall into rhythm behind her. She turned to look back and Jaime who rooted in his spot; that look on his face. All soft and open. The one that made her stomach drop and her tension melt.

“I will see to it we have a proper ceremony in a Sept after the war. I love you Brienne and I just want you to be safe.”

Brienne felt as though her heart might explode then and there. Reaching out for his hand, the smile returned to her lips. “Come now my Consort. Take me to Bran’s love interest.”

Most of the castle’s occupants were headed to the great hall for lunch or found themselves hastily preparing for the journey south tomorrow, but Jaime and Brienne stepped quietly through the snow towards the Godswood; Sansa flanking them.

Just as Jaime predicated, the trio spotted Bran by the Weirwood staring intently up at the thick trunk and bright, red leaves. Jaime gave a suggestive smirk towards Brienne and leaned into her ear to whisper. “That is a big tree… a lot of wood. No wonder the boy is so sated all the time.”

 _Oh gods!_ Brienne swatted his chest, causing Sansa to look at them questioningly. “Honestly Jaime, Tormund is less vulgar. Would you please shut up.”

Jaime snickered as they neared the tree and came to a standstill in front of Bran. Bran looked up at them with a thin smile spread across his face. As Sansa started to speak, the boy cut her off. “Yes, I’ll play the second witness. I’m happy to lend Ser Jaime… _a hand_.” The boy quirked his brow at the aged knight whose own brows shot up at the remark. “Besides”, Bran continued, “I could use a distraction before heading inside. I’ve been out here for some time and it is a bit cold. My limbs have gone a bit… _stiff_.”

It was Brienne this time who barely suppressed a laugh while Jaime stood in stunned silence _. Had I known this is all it would take to shut the man up, I would have found Bran before dragging Jaime back to King’s Landing those years ago._

Sansa looked between the three and slowly spoke. “Well then. If we’re about ready, let me explain how our vows work in the north.”

To Brienne’s relief, the Northern vows and marriage process was quite straightforward. She particularly enjoyed the limited number of attendees; always hating to be the center of attention.

Bran spoke first “Who comes before the old gods?”

Sansa lifted her chin beside Brienne and spoke in a tone that reminded Brienne so much of Lady Catelyn. “Ser Brienne of Tarth, a woman trueborn. Heir to the Iron Throne and future Evenstar. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

Jaime took a step forward, never breaking eye contact from Brienne. “Jaime. Just Jaime.” Both knights shared a big smile before Jaime continued. “Who gives her?”

Sansa’s smile grew as she proudly announced herself. “Sansa Stark. Lady of Winterfell. Warden of the North.”

Bran spoke next. “Ser Brienne. Will you take this man?” Brienne felt her heart leap into her throat. “I take this man.”

Brienne and Jaime joined hands and kneeled before the heart tree. While bowing their heads, Brienne felt Jaime’s gaze on her face. She turned to meet his eyes and both exchanged a smile. When they rose, Jaime helped Brienne remove her cloak. Given the circumstances, it was just her regular cloak in place of a maiden’s cloak. Bran handed Jaime a bundled cloak that Sansa had brought with them. Jaime opened it to drape around Brienne’s shoulders and huffed loudly at the Stark sigil on the back. He cocked his head at Sansa who looked to be enjoying the scene all too much.

“What? You gave me all of five minutes to prepare! It was the best I could do.”

Jaime smiled and finished pulling it around Brienne’s shoulders. “Well… I suppose you are under my protection _and_ the bloody Starks.”

As the four prepared to head inside, Sansa and Bran agreed that it made sense to keep this between themselves. Jaime would inform his bannerman upon arrival south to ensure they remained loyal should Jaime fall. Rather than join everyone in the great hall for lunch, Sansa offered to send up some food to their rooms. 

Brienne stiffened a bit. “My lady. It is my duty to stand guard for you.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and looked between Brienne and Jaime. “I thought we went over this, but if you need the reminder I will oblige. You are to rest Ser Brienne. However it is that you elect to _rest_ is your business, but I promise you will not be interrupted for the remainder of the day. Pod will guard me. Under your tutelage, he has become more than capable.”

Jaime circled around to the back of Bran’s chair as the women walked towards the castle together, whispering conspiratorially. “My lord… let me give you _a push_.” Jaime whispered into Bran’s ear as they set to follow. 

Bran let out an audible snort and both women turned to see wide smirks on the faces of the men. 

As Brienne entered their room and turned to shut the door, she felt Jaime’s arms circle around her waist and his breath warm against her ear. “Lady Lannister. Did you want to do some more drills?” See could feel his mischievous smile against her neck and couldn’t suppress the smile forming across her face.

She turned to face him and with as much seriousness as she could infuse into her voice, she corrected him. “That is Lady Lannister of Tarth.”


	15. Jaime V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW - Queue 8x04 "It's blood hot in here" with a little Nelly in the background

_Gods this is really happening._ Jaime’s mind and senses were full of Brienne. Years of longing and dreams couldn’t have prepared him for the real thing. As their lips were locked in passion, Jaime’s good hand fumbled between their chests, waging war with the ties to her tunic. His cock screamed for attention and begged exit from his breeches. _Her ribs, I need to be careful of her ribs._

He walked them backwards slowly, never breaking contact from her body nor mouth. As her legs bumped against the edge of the bed, Jaime hooked his right arm under her backside and used his left arm to cradle her shoulders while carefully lifting and guiding her back against the bed. He suppressed a chuckle thinking to how many times he had lifted her of late. 

He was surprised the first time upon noticing how light she was given they were of the same height and he knew the taught muscle that was hidden underneath all those layers she usually wore. Then again, he had seen her naked in the bathes at Harrenhal and vividly recalled how lean she was despite how physically imposing she proved herself to be.

Urging her towards the pillows, he finally defeated the blasted ties of her tunic and worked to pull the garment off her as swiftly as a one-handed man could. He then began to fumble with the laces of her breeches as he felt her hands pushing his jerkin back off his shoulders. She made speedy work of the ties to his tunic, lifting the fabric up and over his head. He felt her hands move to the straps of his false hand and Jaime felt his body tense.

Cersei always hated his stump. She made him wear the heavy prosthetic whenever they were together. With Brienne, he didn’t feel disgusting, broken, or less of a man. He felt more whole without the hand and simply being in her presence.

 _Damn the useless false hand. Although this would be so much easier and more enjoyable if I could properly disrobe and touch her with two hands._ As quickly as the thought entered his mind, it was lost as he felt Brienne’s hands moving to his breeches. The moment her hands brushed against his pulsating member, he reeled back.

“Sorry! Did I do something wrong?” Brienne’s eyes were wide and full of panic.

“No! Its just… I don’t want this to end before I’m even out of these damned breeches.” Jaime watched as understanding washed over her face and a blush spread across her face, neck, chest, and further down. _Oh Gods… that blush does spread as far as I dreamed. Best not think to much about that or I will be done for here and now_.

Jaime leaned down and slowed the pace. Trailing kisses along her jaw and back to her lips. “Just relax” he whispered as he started to trail kisses down her neck to the scars from the bear. He moved down further still and paused at her breasts. Her chest rose as he took her in mouth one at a time before continuing lower. He paused at the wrappings around her ribcage.

His stump rested momentarily on top of the bandage, directly over the area he knew the stitches to be. He lost his hand for her, but she nearly lost her life for him. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. She would certainly scar from the wound. A permanent reminder that without hesitation, she would give her life for him. Jaime knew of no one else who would make such a sacrifice for him. 

For Brienne, he would give his life gladly and as much as it pained him to think on it, he knew Brienne would do the same in return. Had Jaime died for Cersei, Cersei likely would have shrugged it off as what was expected of him. Cersei would never consider so much as taking a knitting injury for him though. His stump moved slowly back and forth over the bandage as his mind took it all in. He could feel Brienne pushing to her elbows and realized he must have been still for too long.

“Are you OK?”

Jaime swallowed the lump in his throat and gave a small smile back up at her. “Just thinking about how much I love you.” Her face softened and her sapphire pools opened so much he feared he might drown.

“And I love you.”

Jaime’s smile widened and he collected himself once more. “Now layback wench. Can’t have you exert yourself too much. Can’t risk these stiches opening.” Given her a cocky smile, he proceeded lower and rested his head between her legs.

Fearing that pushing her over the edge more than once in this position might be her stitches undoing, he climbed back up to her mouth and positioned himself between those incredibly, long legs. Looking earnestly into her eyes, Jaime hesitated and asked. “Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

“Yes, Jaime. I want to.”

“I’ll go slow. Tell me if anything hurts. Let me know if your injury is too much.” All Brienne could do was acknowledge his words with a nod of the head.

Jaime entered her slowly and watched for any signs of discomfort. _Gods she is tight._ Jaime didn’t know how long he would last. He fell into a rhythm and before long, they were both spiraling over the edge together. Her name bouncing off their chamber walls and his name from her lips ringing in his ears.

Considering his age, Jaime was surprised how soon he recovered and could explore other positions not placing too much strain on her injury. Luckily Sansa was true to her word and sent food up for both lunch and dinner. Neither Jaime nor Brienne had the desire and energy to extricate themselves from their room.

That night as they lay in each other’s arms, a tangle of limbs, Jaime thought of all that was yet to be accomplished before their safety secured. He watched Brienne’s softened features in a state of rest, her steady breathing, her slightly parted lips. For the first time in his life, Jaime realized that this would be the only battle in which he feared death. The actual process of dying didn’t frighten him, but rather the act of leaving Brienne so soon after he finally found his happiness.

Jaime eventually drifted off to sleep. His first contented sleep in years.

As the morning light shone through the window, Jaime opened his eyes to find that Brienne had rolled over during the night, exposing her long, lean back to him. He nudged closer and trailed little kisses up her arm to her neck. He did not see so much as feel her wake from sleep. She slowly rolled over, a sated look on her face, and cupped his check, brushing it casually with her thumb. “Good morning husband.”

“Good morning wife.” Jaime dropped a kiss to her lips. “How about one final spar before we head down to break our fast?” His brother could wait after all. Jaime needed one final reminder of everything he was marching south for.

As they entered the great hall, arm in arm, Jaime spotted Tyrion at their usual table. The two sat down and exchanged greetings with the younger Lannister brother. 

The spoke of light topics. Nothing of the march south or battle to come. Tyrion seemed distracted, but Jaime brushed it off given the overwhelming events of the past weeks.

As they slowly made their way to the yard to meet the gathering army, Brienne tugged at Jaime’s arm. She looked uneasy and leaned in to whisper. “Please stay safe. Things still feel rather off with Daenerys and her forces. And those dragons…” Brienne’s eyes darted to the sky as the dragons circled in the distance.

 _I need to be confident for her_. Mustering his best cocky grin, Jaime lifted his chin. “Don’t worry. I’ve already treated with a dragon once on the Goldroad. A second time with a slightly different approach can’t hurt.”

Brienne swatted his chest and they walked to the horse that had been prepared for him. Ser Davos, Tormund, and Gendry sat atop their mounts, Davos holding the reigns of Jaime’s. The men gave a warm nod to both Jaime and Brienne.

“Don’t worry lady knight. I’ll keep an eye on your mouthy little lion here.” Tormund flashed a wide grin as Jaime rolled his eyes and turned to face Brienne one last time. She put her hands on each side of his face. “You come back to me Jaime Lannister. Don’t do anything foolish like jumping into any pits unarmed!”

Jaime couldn’t suppress the smile that flashed across his face. “I am nothing if not cautious. I would never consider something so impulsive… unless it was for love.” He pulled her in for a kiss and quickly turned to mount his horse. “Now be a good wench and listen to your Lady. I’ve been on the wrong end of Stark wrath before. I assure you it isn’t pleasant.”

Jaime watched as Sansa pushed Bran towards Brienne to see the troops off. Sansa inclined her head at the men and bid them well. As Jaime was about to leave, he heard Bran’s steady voice.

“Kingslayer. Did you ever wonder why she hates him so much?”

Jaime tilted his head in confusion. “What ‘she’ and what ‘him’ do you speak of?”

“Your sister and brother of course.” _Gods not this again. Neither are even present and I get to hear more about the little beast that killed our mother._ At that, Bran cast his eyes to the west were Daenerys and Tyrion were deep in conversation, paying no mind to the activity around them.

Bran looked back at Jaime. “It was never because of your mother.” A this, Jaime’s breath caught and confusion swirled in his mind. Bran’s eyes bore into his.

“And when her tears have drowned her, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about her pale white throat and choke the life from her.”


	16. Sansa III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter is my giant "fuck you" to D&D

The castle was the quietest it had been since that fateful night the horns sounded to signal the arrival of the Knight King’s army. Sansa would never forget the chill in the air and deathly silence as the living looked out in the blackness of night; both aware and unaware of what stood before them. Today however, the castle was quiet for a decidedly different reason. The armies were gone; days removed from Winterfell.

Sansa made her way to the great hall to break her fast, Brienne walking with a subtle limp behind her.

“How fare your injuries _your Grace_ ”, Sansa said with a sly smile. She was not surprised to catch Brienne’s eyes roll as the knight tried to look away before turning her head to respond.

“Every day gets better, but please… just Brienne.” Sansa again observed the slight strain in her sworn sword’s steps.

“Are you certain? You look worse than yesterday.”

At that, Brienne’s face flushed a deep red and the knight stammered to brush aside the observation. “No no.. just um…”

“Ah yes. A bit sore in other ways then.” This time, Sansa could not stifle the girlish giggle that broke through her stoic mask. Sansa suddenly became very quiet and awkward. _Breathe. Just breath._ Slowing their movement towards the hall, Sansa reached for Brienne’s arm.

“When Ramsey...” Sansa paused to collect herself, eyes darting away from Brienne momentarily. The two stopped walking and Brienne looked to her with concern. “When I was stuck here with him in the castle. Things happened. I have always feared that should the day come I must remarry for the sake of my people, I will never shake the memory nor escape the pain. I suppose I had hoped it wouldn’t _always_ hurt.” 

Sansa was leery of overstepping an undefined line with Brienne, but at the same time this woman was her chosen family. The only woman she felt she could now go to with these troubles.

Brienne fumbled a bit with her jerkin, but steeled herself before looking back up at Sansa with a small smile. “I can assure you my lady that with the right person, it won’t hurt. I’m sorry you had to endure _that_. I’ve been for fortunate to have been saved from that pain… by Ser Jaime ironically enough.”

Sansa felt her shoulders relax and the tension in the atmosphere retreat. “You know, I don’t believe we’ve ever spoken of your journey with Ser Jaime through the Riverlands. You had only mentioned that he was honorable towards you.”

Brienne tensed a bit and Sansa was uncertain what memories plagued Brienne. “Of course, if you don’t wish to speak on it, I won’t press the matter.” A small smile tugged at Brienne’s lips.

“No, its fine. I’m happy to tell the tale. Perhaps over our morning meal?” With a small nod, the two continued walking towards the great hall.

The women took a seat with Bran who was spending more and more time indoors these days much to Sansa’s relief. She couldn’t be entirely certain, but she could see shades of the young boy she grew up with poking through.

As they sat at the table, eating their morning porridge and commenting on the quiet of the castle, Sansa raised the topic again.

“So tell me more about your travels with Ser Jaime. Did you fall in love with him then?” Sansa had experienced much pain in the world over the last years. The naïve little girl who roamed these halls before the day Robert Baratheon arrived with his cursed family wouldn’t recognize the woman she had become. Part of Sansa longed to believe that dashing knights coming to rescue of fair maidens did exist. That true love could beat back evil. The other part of Sansa, the part still dealing with recent traumas and harsh reminders of the evils in the world, struggled to imagine such things could exist.

She watched as Brienne slowly lowered her spoon and seemed to get lost in thought. “Where to begin…” With a sigh, Brienne moved to speak. “Our journey did not start out so well. To be honest were it not for my admiration of and loyalty to your mother, I likely would have run Ser Jaime through my sword. The idiot wouldn’t stop prattling on, trying to goad me into a fight for days on end.” At this, Sansa let out a light chuckle which Brienne matched.

“We had to stay off the main roads mind you so as not to draw attention. Your mother may have set us off, but your brother and his men surely would have seen Ser Jaime killed should we be found. All I cared about quickly getting him to Kings Landing in exchange for you and Arya. Then we encountered a farmer along the way. He seemed harmless enough, but Jaime urged me to kill the man. Insisted the man had recognized him and would report us. I didn’t listen of course, and it proved our downfall.”

“Sometime later we arrived at a river crossing. Again, I made a decision that in hindsight was not wise. I opted to cross the bridge. For a moment I was so preoccupied with not being seen, that I let Ser Jaime distract me. He stole one of my swords and cut his tether free. He came at me, trying to kill me. All I ever heard growing up was how brilliant he was with a sword. How no one in the seven kingdoms could best him.” Sansa’s eyes went wide at the thought of Jaime and Brienne fighting one another.

Sansa watched as Brienne’s mouth curved into a triumphant smile. “I was beating him. Had him knocked on his ass. True, he was weak and his hands chained together, but I read him as easily as he claimed to read me. Idiot still wouldn’t stop taunting me even as we fought though!” Brienne huffed and then her faced darkened.

“But then I heard the horses. Locke’s men, bannermen of the Boltons found us. That farmer was with them. I’ll spare you the details, but our captivity wasn’t pleasant. That night they came for me. Dragged me behind a tent, tore at my clothing, and beat me. I can still hear them. Still smell the stink of them. Still feel their hands all over me…” Brienne trembled at the memory and Sansa reached for her hand.

“Ser Jaime stopped them. He lost his hand for it. I thought he would die, truly. I didn’t know where they were taking us. I focused on keeping Jaime alive. I tried to figure a way out, but I couldn’t see one. When we arrived at Harrenhal, things only got worse.” Brienne looked down into her bowl and Sansa could tell a wave of horrifying memories flooded her. 

“The day Roose Bolton released Ser Jaime to be delivered back to King’s Landing and said I was to stay behind with Locke, I knew I was dead. They came for me again. I fought back. I… I didn’t let them take _everything_ from me. They tried, but I…I stopped them. Locke had a new idea though. They threw me into a bear pit with nothing but a wooden sword. I don’t know how long I was in that pit. I just realized that I would die. I fought as hard as I could, but then Ser Jaime was there. He jumped into the pit without a weapon or thought as to what to do next.” Sansa felt her jaw go slack. 

Sansa turned to her brother who sat emotionless between them. With a deep swallow, Sansa turned back to Brienne who explained how they got out of the pit. How Ser Jaime guarded her from the taunts and unwanted attention of Bolton’s men on their journey back. How Ser Jaime ensured her wounds were treated. How he ensured she had fresh clothing. How he comforted her when she awoke from the nightmares.

“I still don’t know why he came back, but I would have died had he not.”

For the first time since Brienne began speaking, Bran spoke up. “The things we do for love.”

Both Sansa and Brienne turned to him. Brienne’s mouth ajar, brows knitted together in confusion. Sansa’s eyes darted back and forth between the two.

“Ser Jaime hardly loved me then. The only thing that got him through those days was the thought of getting back to Cersei. I think it was just his honor that drove him back for me. He is a good man despite having done some truly horrible things.” Brienne gave a knowing look at Bran, but the boy pressed on.

“Tell me Ser Brienne, when did you fall in love with Renly?” Sansa saw Brienne recoil at the name.

“I don’t know. Perhaps the night of a ball on Tarth. Well… I suppose I _thought_ it was love back then. I was so young. It took me many years to realize it wasn’t true love; more a girlish infatuation. Desire for someone who I hoped could love me in return. Make me feel complete and cared for. I hadn’t ever experienced love or tenderness before.”

Bran smiled. “And don’t you think it was the same for Ser Jaime?” Sansa could feel the tension in the air. Brienne sat there gawking at Bran who only continued to smile.

“Its yours. It will always be yours.” At those words from her brother, Sansa saw tears pool in Brienne’s eyes. _What does that mean? What are they not saying?_

“He will jump into a pit again. This time with a dragon. He might not come out this time.” Sansa sat dumbstruck and Brienne leapt to her feet frantically imploring Bran to explain. _What the fuck Bran!?_ This time, Sansa found her voice.

“Bran. What are you not telling us!? What is going on!?” Bran looked to his sister. “I can’t see things so clearly anymore. I just see danger. A lion, a dragon, and a wolf. But the lion is bound. Chaos. Fire and blood.”

With that, Brienne darted out of the room. 

When Sansa came to Brienne sometime later, Brienne was staring into the flames warming her chamber. “Brienne. Can I come in?”

Brienne’s eyes looked distant, almost vacant. “Yes, of course.”

Sansa slowly approached and sat down. “I’m sorry about Bran. He has been acting off lately. One moment I think I’m getting my brother back. The next he’s making insane statements like that. I’m sure everything will be OK, but I need to tell you something.” At that, Brienne looked towards Sansa.

“Arya left with the Hound all those days ago. They headed for Kings Landing to get to Cersei and try to end this war before a battle could break out. I was afraid you might try and set off after her if I told you. I know my sister and what she is capable of. I’m confident she can do this. She can end this war. I’m sure Ser Jaime will be safe. He will be surrounded by his bannermen and our men.”

Brienne inhaled deeply and looked back to the flames. “Thank you. That makes me feel a little better. I just hate this feeling. I feel trapped. I feel worried. I’m sure you have the right of it.”

Sansa looked down at her lap before looking back to Brienne. “Do you need anything? I can send some food or drink up?”

Brienne’s lips were pressed tightly together, but slightly turned up into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “No, thank you. I’m just feeling a bit tired. Think I might need a little rest.”

“Of course. I’ll leave you to it then.”

That night at dinner in the great hall, Brienne wasn’t there. Sansa passed by Brienne’s room on the way to bed and saw the firelight flickering under the door. _Oh Brienne. Gods let this be OK._

Sansa awoke with a start in the middle of the night. She could tell from the position of the moon that it was quite late. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Pulling on her robes, she wandered the halls and knocked on Brienne’s door. At the sound, she heard a startled voice behind her. Turning on her heel, she saw a guard, slouched in a chair, sleep heavy on this face. “My lady, I’m so sorry! Must have dozed off for a minute there.”

Sansa nodded, but turned her attention back to the door. Pushing it open and peering in, she called out “Brienne.” The bed was empty. _Shit._

Sansa picked up her pace through the halls. _Pod. I need to find Pod. Surely he is with Brienne or knows where she is._ As Sansa made her way into the courtyard, she saw her. Her armor was on and she was preparing a satchel on the horse. _Gods no! She can’t do this_.

Slowly, Sansa approached. The crunch of snow under Sansa’s feet echoed off the courtyard walls. If Brienne heard her approach, her body language didn’t let it show.

“They’re going to lay siege to that city Brienne. You won’t be safe. You’re in no condition to fight.” No response.

Sansa picked up the pace and Brienne turned her face to meet Sansa. Sansa grabbed Brienne’s arms. Her sworn sword. Her chosen family. Her closest confidant. Her only friend.

“Brienne! You don’t have to do this.”

“I do! Have you ever known me to run from a fight?” Brienne’s tone caught Sansa off guard. Brienne sighed and turned her head back towards the satchel. Sansa grabbed her face and turned it to meet her eyes.

“Please Brienne. Stay here. Stay where you are safe!”

Brienne grabbed Sansa’s hands and lowered them, pulling up taller, and sucking in a breath. She looked so tired. So worried. Sansa had never seen her sworn sword like this.

“Jaime lost his sword hand, for me. Jaime jumped into a bearpit unarmed, for me. Jaime armed me and armored me, sent me to find you, betraying his kin in the process, for me. Jaime took Riverrun without bloodshed, for me. He broke loyalty from his sister at my behest and rode north to battle the dead, for me. He stood under my command in the battle and saved my life again, for me. He rode south to fight his sister, for me.” Sansa felt the shock of it all wash over her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so truly sorry Sansa. I must go to him. Nothing is more hateful than failing to protect the one you love.”

With that, Brienne mounted her horse and rode out of the courtyard leaving Sansa gaping at her in the snow.


	17. Selwyn I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains non-descriptive mention of child abuse and bullying. 
> 
> Someone is going to meet his goodfather!
> 
> I have about one more chapter that already had a good amount of content. After that my updates might slow a bit. Work calls!

The tall, fair-haired, lord looked behind him to see his banners flapping in the wind. His men focused on the march ahead. Moons and sunbursts blotted out before his eyes alongside stags and the sigils of the Stormlands other vassal houses. _We’re coming Brienne._

It had been quite the month for Lord Selwyn. He had gone near a year with not so much as a single raven from his only living child, to three communications in rapid succession. The silence from Brienne didn’t concern him. If nothing else he expected it. He recognized the the limited communication was of his own failings as a father. 

The first raven was a clipped message as most of Brienne’s updates were.

Father,

The army of the dead arrived. I’ve seen things I never imagined bearing witness to. The living fought hard and we won. I still serve the Starks. I hope I can make you proud.

Regards,

Brienne

If the first raven was a relief, the second raven was anything but.

Father,

They know. The Dragon Queen is not happy to hear of my ‘background’. Please trust I did not divulge this information. One of the Stark children has seen things. It is something strange, but he knew things I can’t comprehend. What do I do?

Regards,

Brienne

Before he was able to think through a proper response, a third raven arrived a day later.

Lord Selwyn,

My name is Sansa Stark and your daughter serves my family as sworn sword. She is a remarkable woman, truly. She has saved me and my kin from certain death. She ended the Long Night by her own sword. My brother can see things. Things from the past and happening as you read this. He sees blurred visions of what could come to pass. I don’t know if you can possibly believe this, but he has told us things about Brienne and your family that I trust to be true. She is in great danger as are we all. This morning, she took an arrow for her betrothed. An arrow delivered by Queen Cersei. Brienne is alive and recovering, but I worry about what is to come. There are contingents here I do not trust. A dragon has returned to Westeros and marches on Kings Landing. I beseech you to join our cause. We will need the numbers and when either queen prevails, I worry for what they might do with Brienne.

Yours,

Sansa Stark

Warden of the North

Lady of Winterfell

 _Gods damn it. What have you gotten yourself into my little star. And I’m sorry, but ‘betrothed’?_ Selwyn thought back on his life. So much loss to one family felt inordinately cruel, but what he had done to his little star felt worse.

Selwyn remembered his wife’s smile and laughter as she cooed at their newborn babe. Galladon was but a pup himself, nipping at his mother’s heels. Asking to hold his new sister. Selwyn’s world was perfect. Fortunately, neither of his children inherited their mother’s violet eyes. Eyes which while he loved looking into every day, would be too telling for outsiders. He had grown up alongside this woman who became his life. She whispered her family story to him under the stars at night. The maid who brought her to Tarth was determined to teach her of her lineage, but also quick to ensure she understood why it must remain a secret.

Selwyn never knew his grandfather, Ser Duncan the Tall, but he heard stories about him. His shield was adorned at Tarth and islanders were proud to declare him a part of their island and the Tarth family lineage. Selwyn himself was no small man. He stood over a head taller than most men. He was a natural combatant and leader. He knew of his grandfather’s friendship with King Aegon or Egg as he was affectionately known by those closest to him. He knew as much of Egg’s children as the rest of Westeros. Merely that Egg’s firstborn, Duncan named after Selwyn’s grandfather, abdicated the throne after breaking his betrothal to Lady Baratheon in favor of his love, Jenny. That left Aeres as next in line. 

What Selwyn came to know of the tragedy at Summerhall was the little information shared from his wife. The secondhand recounting came from the maid stealing her away to Tarth. His wife’s name at birth was Alysanne, but the maid felt it was ‘too Targaryen’ and upon her arrival at Tarth, it was abbreviated to Alys. They named her Alys Storm to be precise.

When Alsy died, Selwyn only remembered blackness. He entrusted the children’s wellbeing to the septa and household staff. He poured himself into his work; managing Tarth, training his army; handling trade. Then the twins, whose very birth lead to his wife’s death in the birthing bed, died less than a year after Alys’ death. He had named them Alyssane, after his wife, and Arianne. Roughly a year later, Galladon drowned. As if he couldn’t become a worse father to Brienne, he found a way.

Brienne had her mother’s nose (before it broke), lips, and spirit. She had his height, eyes, and talent with weapons. She had been a wild child according to the household staff, but as she grew (and grow she did!), she became sullen. Selwyn wasn’t deaf. He heard the teasing and whispers. He just felt numb. Every time he was around her, she would stare at him and he couldn’t handle the reminder of all he lost. He pushed her away emotionally by not interacting with her.

Years later he heard from the staff how her septa abused her emotionally and at times, physically. He heard stories of how the local boys tormented and bullied her. The first time he really noticed her, was when he caught her out in the training yards at night, taking the piss out of a practice dummy. Her movement was awkward. Her footwork atrocious. But by the Gods she was strong. In age, she was no more than ten and two; pathetically he couldn’t even recall her age at that time.

He truly looked at her for the first time as she made a mess of trying to go through drills. Her face had the markings of a young boy fresh from his first fight. Her long braid was flapping about behind her and when it moved, he caught sight of the claw marks at the back of her neck.

He remembers stepping out from the shadows to confront her. His voice was booming as he yelled to her “Seven hells girl! What do you imagine you’re doing!?”. She looked at him with those damned eyes. Round and sorrowful. 

“Seven blessings father. I just thought I’d try a go at it. I would like to know how to defe… how to fight.”

 _Hells._ “Give me that sword girl! Fighting is for boys!” He watched his baby girl turn her head down dejected and slowly walk to him. _By the seven she is tall._ “I’m sorry father. I just…”

With a sigh he replied, “If you’re going to do it, you might as well do it right!” He stood out there for some time showing her basic drills. When they were done, he instructed her to see Ser Goodwin on the morrow for lessons on one condition. She had to at least try to be a lady.

He stopped by to watch her from time to time. On rare occasion he stepped in to correct some steps or have a quick spar with her. By and large she became Ser Goodwin’s pupil. After her second broken betrothal, Selwyn realized his line might die with him. By her third broken betrothal, Selwyn accepted his line will die with him.

He had consorts over the years. One every year to be exact. Some men use ale to drown the sorrows. Selwyn had women. He tried to replace what he had lost, but no one was Alys. His advisors begged him to remarry. To sire another heir. Selwyn refused. He felt it an insult to the memory of his wife.

In a fit of desperation, he borrowed money from the Iron Bank. If offering Tarth to a prospective husband for Brienne wasn’t enough, perhaps throwing some money on top of it would sweeten the pot. One thousand gold dragons for a man willing to bed his mannish daughter and produce an heir. He felt disgusted at the memory of it.

Then she left for Renly’s war. 

His advisors thought it a blessing. Tarth is a fickle island. For an island so accepting of bastards and less than honorable bloodlines, Tarth would not accept anyone at Evenfall not named Tarth. This made it impossible for Selwyn to name someone to succeed him so long as Brienne lived. Selwyn’s advisors felt her going off to war ‘for the best’. Should she not return, the island would be more accepting of a non-Tarth heir. Granted they need use the “Of Tarth” last name as prior generations without a male heir had done.

Then the letter came from Locke. Money for Brienne’s safe return. He offered three hundred gold dragons. A compromise between Selwyn and his advisors. He wanted to offer more, but they balked at the idea. Three hundred gold dragons were a pittance compared to what was in their banks. When he didn’t receive a response, he wept for a fortnight. He doomed his only living child. Spat on the memory of his wife. _Keep them safe. Protect them._

Selwyn nearly died of shock when he received a letter some time later from the Kingslayer of all people. Like Brienne, his letter was clipped. Unlike Brienne, his penmanship was atrocious. He mused silently that if this letter was anything like the boy’s personality, his star and the dishonored knight would have made a fine match. In truth, Selwyn always felt something more to the Kingslayer’s story. He knew about Aerys’ true nature. Felt the slaying a blessing despite breaking oaths. Surely his daughter would have known of that though.

Lord Selwyn,

I understand a ransom was sent regarding your daughter. She is now safe in Kings Landing. Her honor unbesmirched. No injuries that will not heal. 

Regards

Jaime Lannister

Selwyn knew then that he had a second chance. A chance to be a true father to Brienne. _Gods willing she will return home someday_. He would shower her in love. _Had I ever hugged her? Had I told her she was loved?_

Back on his mount with his men now camped some distance away, Selwyn could see a mix of banners in the distance. The commanders’ war council. Selwyn urged his horse ahead alongside the representative from the Dragon Queen’s southern host… _I’m here Brienne. I’m sorry I took so long._

As his mount approached, he saw a banner from nearly all the great houses; the North, the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Westerlands. _The Lannisters. Aren’t we to fight these bloody people._

Then he saw it. The Targaryen banner. _Gods I had hoped to never see that banner again._

 _Well this is a curious crowd_. He immediately recognized the Targaryen looks on the woman he assumed to be Daenerys. Yes, news of her arrival to Dragonstone reached Tarth many moons ago. She was flanked by some foreign soldiers and an imp who looked vaguely familiar. Of the other houses, he recognized Ser Davos and _by the Gods…. Renly reborn_. Then his eyes fell on the Kingslayer. Jaime Lannister looked back at him like a child caught with too many lemon cakes in hand.

The Dragon Queen spoke first. “Daario! I trust you are well. How was the journey across the sea?” The young warrior beamed at her and bowed. “Wonderful to see you Khaleesi! The journey was long. I have with me some of your loyalists from Dorne although admittedly their numbers are few compared to ours.” Her true smile dropped as she turned to face Selwyn.

“Lord Tarth. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Daenerys Stormborn.” The girl spoke to him as if he wouldn’t have guessed it himself.

“I gathered as much. We are not unfamiliar with Targaryen features on Tarth.”

“I imagine not. I must say, I’m starting to see some consistency in Tarth’s features as well.” The young woman spoke in a tone that Selywn couldn’t place. Be it true or in mock, he could not tell. Before he could think on it further, Daenerys pointed to Davos. “This gentleman I trust you know. With him is Gendry Baratheon.” At that, Renly’s ghost spoke “Honored to meet you m’Lord! I’m Robert’s bastard. I’ve heard a good deal about you from Ser Davos here.”

“Lord Selwyn! Good to see you. Especially on better terms. I kept to my promise. No smuggling on Tarth.” Selwyn quirked a brow and recounted his last run in with the Onion Knight. “Well I believe much has changed since Stannis and Renly were at each other’s throats.”

Daenerys motioned to the Lannister boy. “And this…” “Jaime Lannister.” Jaime interjected. “Good to meet you Lord Tarth.” The boy extended his left hand as Selwyn quickly observed his right hand was false. Taking it, he studied the man more closely now.

He had piercing green eyes with a slight note of mischief dancing behind them. He looked freshly shaven and his hair was cleanly cropped. Not quite golden, but not quite brown, a smattering of grey. He definitely looked the part of a Lannister. His armor was adorned in golden lions and he stood confidently. The boy stood about half a head shorter than Selwyn himself. By his estimate, maybe an inch shorter than Brienne. Unlike most in the group, his smile seemed true.

“Yes. I seem to recall a raven from you not too many years back.” At that, the boy turned a bit sheepish and his face flushed.

“Yes well, glad it was received.” The boy’s eyes darted to the imp and back to Selwyn. At that, the imp spoke up. “And I’m Tyrion Lannister, hand of… Lady Daenerys.”

“Ah. I was not aware ladies had their own Hands these days.” Selwyn delivered the comment with little undertone, but understood better than most the game being played here. “It is however most curious. Two Lannister brothers stand out here. And last I heard, a Lannister queen sat over there.” Selwyn pointed to the east towards the capital.

Tyrion sighed and nodded slightly. “Yes well we have much to discuss. Shall we?” He pointed over a small hill to where Selwyn could make out the top of a tent clearly meant to host their war council.

Hours later after battle plans had been drawn and the group broke to return to their respective camps, Selwyn heard rapid footsteps at his back and his name from the Kingslayer’s lips. “Lord Tarth. Might I have a word?” Over the lad’s shoulder, he could see Jaime’s bannerman and brother stifling a laugh and shaking their heads as they turned to head back to their own camps.

_Well… this should prove interesting._

They had a seat on the hill looking east towards the capital. The boy seemed a bit jittery as a newborn colt.

“I don’t know how much Brienne might have told you of me…”

“I’ve heard nothing of you from her.” The boy almost looked disappointed at the statement and seemed to stumble for where to begin.

“Ah well. We traveled together or rather, I was her captor at a point.” Jaime looked at Selwyn who merely cocked a brow.

“I did not say I have not heard of your nor your interactions with my daughter. Merely that she had not mentioned anything in her letters. Tarth is an island that lives off of trade. I’ve heard the rumors.” Jaime’s eyes widened in horror as Selwyn continued.

“The Kingslayer’s Whore”


	18. Jaime VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selwyn and Jaime have a chit chat. The battle begins.

Of all the things Jaime envisioned killing him on the march south and the battle to come, death by goodfather was not one of them. Although there wasn’t an exact image Jaime had in mind of the man who sired Brienne, nothing quite prepared him for the giant of a man in front of him. He looked the height and width of the Mountain, but decidedly less zombie like in appearance.

His hair was shoulder length with slight wave to it and a straw-colored hue. Despite sharing little to no facial features with his daughter, the one thing that stood out were his eyes. Selwyn’s eyes reminded him of Brienne despite Brienne’s being a far deeper, more attractive shade. Selwyn’s eyes reminded Jaime of a cool ocean breeze. Calm and steady. Brienne’s deep sapphire pools were like the sea after a summer storm; all churned up and rich in hue.

Selwyn had a booming voice and commanding presence about him; eerily enough, that reminded Jaime of Tywin. Unfortunately for Jaime, this man he sought to win favor with heard one of the very rumors Jaime fretted on more than his moniker “Kingslayer”.

Jaime’s breathing picked up and his eyes went wild. “I can assure you, I did nothing to dishonor Brienne!”

Lord Selwyn’s eyes bore into Jaime. “Oh… did she lay willing then?” Jaime could almost be fooled into believing the man’s voice took on a teasing tone, but now was certainly not the time for Jaime’s go to communication style; snark.

“Those rumors were started by Boltons vile men. We were prisoners. Equally tortured just in slightly different manners of approach. I did not lay a hand on her in the Riverlands, I swear it.”

“You use a lost of past tense for someone who _hasn’t_ dishonored my daughter.”

_Shit. This isn’t how I want to explain my marriage to his daughter._

Inhaling sharply and looking away, Jaime steadied himself. “What I mean to say is that, I love your daughter. Very much. I have for some time and I did not dishonor her. I swear to you. We were betrothed in Winterfell.”

“You _were_ betrothed.” Selwyn cast a speculative glance at Jaime. _Seven hells. Words have never been this much of a struggle._

Jaime looked rapidly around them before looking back to the man in front of him. _OK maybe I should start from the beginning. It might make more sense._

Jaime recounted the Riverlands. The events in Kings Landing and needing to send Brienne away to protect her from Cersei. He told of their reunion in Riverrun. Of the Dragon pit. Of the Long Night. He explained their precarious position after the battle with the dead. He explained a certain ceremony by a certain heart tree.

When Jaime finished, he looked at his goodfather who was watching him intently. Mulling it all over, the man let out an exaggerated sigh followed by a huff of laughter.

“I never thought I’d see the day.”

“What?” Jaime looked at the great bear of a man in front of him. Curious to understand how after all that information, this was the man’s response.

“I was a shit father you know. If you ask my people, I imagine they might say I’m a fair and just lord. If you ask my fellow Stormlanders, I think they would say I am a strong ally, loyal and honorable. If you ask my daughter of me, I suspect she would say ‘Selwyn who?’ and then go right back to doing whatever honorable thing it was she had been focused on before the interruption.”

Jaime couldn’t help but smile at the description of Brienne.

“Is she happy?”

Jaime didn’t quite know how to answer that. Brienne could be difficult to read, but he thought (or at least hoped) he made her happy.

“I would like to think she is. I can say she is well respected in the North. They worship her there. Nothing like the southerners treated her.” Selwyn’s expression seemed to understand the comment around Brienne’s southern brethren.

“Those beastly wildlings you saw earlier adore her. I thought one of them might maul me to get to her first. Even Daenerys’ men seem to have a deep regard for her; particularly her army’s commander you met, Greyworm.”

Selwyn digested the information and seemed pleased enough with the response. Then his face darkened a bit.

“I’m going to ask you some questions boy and I want the truth. If I don’t get the truth, I’ll find out and then I will ensure you’re fully qualified to join the ranks of those unsullied.” _Oh Gods. This is fine. It will all be fine._

“Robert’s boys. Were they your seed?”

“Yes” Shame.

“You lay with your own sister.”

“I did” Shame.

“When was the last time?”

“Before I left for the riverlands and she blew up the sept.” Selwyn cringed at that. Jaime felt gutted.

“You stabbed your king in the back?” Jaime lowered his head at that.

“I did” Not shame. Just judgement. He braced for it.

“Why?”

Jaime’s heart started racing and his palm began to sweat. Images of wildfire and burning men clouded his vision. The sounds his Rhaella’s screams at night echoed in his ears. _Burn them all. Burn them all_. Jaime felt words catch in his throat and his breathing felt tight.

“Easy now lad. Breathe.” Selwyn’s bear paw of a hand came to rest on Jaime’s shoulder. It felt like being anchored back on solid ground after years on stormy seas.

“He was… he was going to burn them. Burn them all.” 

“Burn who?” Selwyn’s eyes narrowed.

“Kings Landing. He gave the order to the pyromancer. I killed him before I killed the king.”

He heard Selwyn suck in a sharp breath.

“Who else knows this?”

“Brienne.”

“Just Brienne?”

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you told anyone else?”

“I… I didn’t think anyone would believe me. No one cared why I did it. Just that I did. Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. Man without honor.”

“How old were you boy. Last I saw you, you were no more than a child not even old enough to saddle a pony. Your brother was still suckling at a wet nurse’s teet while your father was running bending to Aery’s every whim.”

“I was ten and seven. You knew my father?”

“You were just a boy.” Selwyn sighed and looked up to the heavens. “And yes, I knew your father. Who didn’t know Tywin Lannister.” He spat the name like a curse to the Gods. “He and I had it out with one another a few times. He needed access to my trade routes. I didn’t much like the man.”

“Not many did.” Jaime grumbled as he conjured up memories of his own battles with his father.

“Your mother on the other hand was a good woman. Brought out what little good in him there was. It was a shame when she passed. I couldn’t place your brother before, but then it all came together when he introduced himself and you kept looking to him throughout the day. Like a man at sea reaching for a net to pull him in.”

“I don’t much like politics. Tyrion has the mind for it. Not me. I just swing a sword around. Or at least I used to.”

Selwyn seemed to consider him for a moment.

“You wish you could get it back I imagine.”

Without hesitation, Jaime responded. “Not for a moment! I would do it again in a heartbeat for her.”

“You are a bit like her in some ways. And in other ways quite different.”

“Such as?”

“You’re rather mouthy. Don’t know when to shut up. Brienne is quite the opposite. A few times in that tent Daenerys looked ready to set you ablaze.”

“Really? And here I thought I was making such progress in winning her favor.” Jaime’s sarcasm did not go unnoticed by the older lord.

“Yes, well were you my son, I would have strongly advised against telling Daenerys Targaryen that her dragons would make for a more enjoyable bedfellow than herself.”

Jaime winced at one his more poorly placed retorts from earlier today. “Well as my goodfather, perhaps you should have thought to knock me unconscious before I could speak period.”

Selwyn barked a laugh at that.

“Well I’m glad for it.” The older man beamed and looked out towards the capital.

“What? That your dishonorable goodson almost became dragon food today?”

“Ha. No. I’m glad that you’re my goodson. I think Brienne has the right of it. You’re a good man Jaime Lannister. More your mother than your father.”

 _Do not cry. Just think of miserable things. Aunt Genna’s cooking. Tormund’s giant teet suckling. Bran’s hand jokes. No it is too late. I’m crying._

He hoped the setting sun might cast enough shadows over his face, but the Gods were not that merciful. Before he knew it, a strong arm was wrapped around his shoulder pulling him into a sideways embrace and ruffling his hair like he was a boy of five. Brienne would never let him live this down. _Brienne. Gods I miss her. No don’t think on that. I’ll just cry more._

“There there son. It’s alright. Something tells me your father and I weren’t so different where it concerns our children.” Selwyn’s next words were more of a mumbling to himself than a statement to Jaime. “Perhaps my penance will be to make it up to the both of you.”

“Selwyn?”

“What boy?”

“I can’t breathe.” At that, they both laugh quietly.

A comfortable silence fell between them before Selwyn spoke next.

“Hells. Now I have to worry about your ass at there or surely my daughter will kill me. Don’t do anything too stupid tomorrow or she’ll have my hide.”

“She is frightening when mad. A stubborn, unmovable force.”

Selwyn beamed at that. “Yes. That would be her mother.”

Jaime felt his chest tighten at his next thought. “If I do fall. Can you tell her something for me?”

Selwyn snapped his head towards him.

“I will do no such thing! You are not dying! Do you hear me boy!? You fight. You fight and make it out the other side.”

Jaime couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “You’re certain its more her mother she takes after?”

After a few more minutes of silence between the two, they bade each other goodnight and made their way to their respective camps. Jaime made a quick stop to see his childhood friend and lead military commander, Ser Addam, and his cousin, Ser Daven. He instructed them to keep his wife safe after the war should he fall. She was their Lady of the Rock now. All their bannerman needed to know this and fight for her as if Tywin himself came back from the Seven hells to command it.

The next morning, they found themselves in formation, marching on the capital from the west. The North, Vale, Wildlings, Unsullied, and Dothraki from the north. The Stormlands, Dorne, and Second Sons from the south. Yara from Blackwater Bay and Daenerys over the bay from the sky. They had the numbers. They had the fire power.

The instructions to Daenerys had been clear. Work with Yara to take out the fleet. Keep the dragons out of the city. Cersei no doubt had wildfire buried throughout the city and the dragons’ fury would set it off. Jaime also did not want the common folk experiencing the fright of dragons above their homes.

Jaime warned them that Cersei becomes extreme, unpredictable, and volatile when backed into a corner. She would not hesitate to use wildfire on her own people if it meant keeping the armies from the Keep and a crown on her head. The best route to her would be through the tunnels as she wouldn’t see it coming. With the fighting on land, Jaime and a group of soldiers would weave their way through the city tunnels and to the keep.

If all went according to plan, they would capture Cersei and force the city’s surrender. Jaime was convinced the Lannister forces still in the city would lay down their arms at Addam’s and Daven’s command. The Lannister army was well trained. They were Jaime’s men after all. The would not fight their own kin if the most senior commanders told them to stand down. The golden company was his worry.

He had heard stories of them as a boy, but had never seen the sellswords in action. Euron’s fleet was formidable, but assuming Daenerys and her dragons could avoid killing blows from a scorpion, the fleet should fall easily between her and Yara.

Unbeknownst to Jaime, a lone, cloaked rider was making her way determinedly down the Kings road and was less than an hour outside the capital.


	19. Bran III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle for the crown.

The clatter of silverware echoed throughout the great hall. Their small group of forces holding the castle dined alongside Lady Stark and Lord Bran. Bran looked to his sister. “Sansa. Its time. I need you to take me to the Godswood. I’ll need all my strength.”

Bran watched as Sansa laid out a blanket by his wheelchair and sat on the hard, frost covered soil. “You don’t need to sit with me the entire time.”

“I know” Sansa replied. “I want to be here.”

“Very well.” Bran lifted his head towards the sky “I’m going now”. His eyes went white and Sansa watched as a flock of ravens dispersed from the uppermost branches of the tree.

Soaring over King’s Landing, Bran could make out the dragons swirling over the seas. Fire rained down on Euron’s fleet as the dragons dodged arrows hurtling towards them. Yara’s fleet battered into Euron’s, trying to take advantage of the distraction the dragons afforded as her fleet was otherwise outnumbered 10:1.

Inside the city gates, citizens ran screaming into their homes; barring windows and doors. From the hill outside the capital, Tyrion, Varys, Missandei, and Davos looked out over the siege.

From the south, Tarth’s archers did what they were known for. Fired flaming arrows on the Golden Company positioned on the battlements providing cover for their fellow bannermen. The rest of the Stormlanders rushed towards the allied foot soldiers fighting the Golden Company at the gates. The fighting on the ground outside the city gates was pure chaos. Nearly 20,000 sellswords slashed and hacked at the Westerosi, Dothraki, Second Sons, and Unsullied forces. It was a battle of epic proportions.

From his vantage point, Bran could see the lone rider charging in on horseback remove her cloak and unsheathing her Valyrian blade. She entered the sea of bodies and Bran lost track of her.

Bran circled closer to the keep and flew down towards the shore where a group of five huddled together in a cove. Jaime Lannister, Tormund, a Lannister general, Greyworm, and one of the northern generals. Jaime was giving instructions to the group and then leading them into the tunnel jutting out from the cave.

Bran flew back up towards the upper levels of the keep and perched on the balcony just yards away from where Cersei stood, glass of wine in hand, observing the chaos below. Her face betrayed no emotion. Her stomach showed no signs of seed quickening.

Cocking his head towards the bay, Bran could see a good portion of Euron’s fleet ablaze. The sound of naval soldiers screaming filled the air while their bodies sought refuge from the flames engulfing their bodies by abandoning ship into the choppy waters.

Looking back towards the gates, the Golden Company was fighting a losing battle. The city gates were beginning to concave in under the strain of sellswords being pushed and stabbed violently against the entrance. The Westerosi forces were too strong. It was a matter of time.

“Your Grace. It is time. We should make our way through the tunnels to the bay.” Qyburn stood behind the queen, his voice calm and steady.

“I will not leave my throne! If they breech the gates, you will light the wildfire caches as discussed.”

Qyburn bowed slowly. “Yes, your grace.”

Back over the bay, the last of Euron’s fleet was set ablaze. Yara’s ships turned towards port to join the fighting on land. The dragon queen flew her dragons towards the battlements and opened fire on the soldiers manning the scorpions.

“Seven hells” Bran heard Cersei mumble as he watched her swallow the remaining wine in the goblet. She chucked the cup over the balcony and turned in a swirl of skirts to exit the room. The Mountain close on her heels nearly obscured Bran’s line of sight to the queen.

Bran flew at a distance behind the Mountain as the queen wound her way down the keep’s steps towards the map room. As she approached, Bran perched on one of the open windows and observed the scene below.

Qyburn stood waiting at the center of the map as Cersei approached. “They are nearly inside the gates. Get down to the tunnels and give the signal to those manning the barrels. If those bastards want the crown, they’ll need to make their way through a burning city to get it.”

From the shadows, the Hound stepped forward and swung his sword down on his undead brother. Cersei stumbled over her skirts moving out of the way as the brothers started swinging wildly at each other. Falling to the floor and looking up to Qyburn for support, the aged maester leaned down. “Your Grace, are you alright?”

“Seven hells Qyburn don’t just stand there. Help me up and get me out of here. Get word to the tunnels!”

“Yes, your grace. I’ll be certain the pass along the message.” Qyburn leans in and speaks flatly, “The North Remembers.”

Cersei’s delicate hand which was laying in Qyburn’s rapidly pulled backwards. Cersei took motion to stand. Her eyes widened in recognition as Arya peeled off Qyburn’s face to reveal herself. “Do you remember me your grace? My sister, Little bird, does regret she couldn’t be here to say goodbye, but I assured her that I would deliver the message.”

Cersei stumbled backwards on hands and feet, looking up at Arya in pure horror. “And don’t worry about the men in the tunnels. I instructed them to leave their stations and provide aid on the battlements. Those men are on the front lines now, about to be run through by northern swords”

“This is for my father.” Arya’s blade sliced deep into Cersei’s right shoulder.

“This is for my mother.” A slice to Cersei’s left shoulder.

“For my brother, his wife, and unborn child.” A slice through her right thigh.

“For my father’s bannerman.” A slice through her left thigh.

Cersei’s cries echoed off the keep walls. Blood poured out all over the map. Tears streamed from her eyes. In the corner of the room, the Mountain sliced through the Hound’s stomach, spilling his insides. Bran let out a loud “caw”, but Arya was too focused. 

“And this is for me.” A deep stab into Cersei’s middle. “I want this face to be the last thing you see when you die.”

Cersei’s tear stained face widened in horror. Bran swooped down cawing repeatedly, but it was no use. The mountain swung down on Arya who only barely moved out of the way, the blade glancing off her left shoulder and arm sending blood pouring onto the map to mix with Cersei’s.

Grabbing her sword arm, Arya scurried backwards while looking around frantically and yelling for Sandor. Upon seeing his innards spread throughout the corner of the room, Arya looked back up at the Mountain and dodged another blow. Arya scrambled to her feet and dodged repeated swings from the lumbering creature. Bran tried to claw at the Mountain, but was merely swatted away each time.

Cersei lay prone on the floor, gasping for air. She watched on in satisfaction, a knowing smile spread across her face. Arya couldn’t survive this. The Mountain landed a kick to Arya’s stomach, knocking her back into the stone wall. Her head bounced off with a sickening thud reminiscent of the Long Night. Her eyes glazed over as she struggled to her feet.

As the Mountain raised his arms, sword in hand, the top of the keep shook violently and rocks came falling down from the ceiling, one stone landing on his head. A dragon’s cry roared out from above. The momentary distraction bought Arya enough time to push to her feet and slip through the Mountain’s legs. At that moment, Jaime, Tormund, and Greyworm burst into the room.

The three charged the Mountain and turned the battle in their favor. From his corner perch, Bran saw Cersei draw a dagger from the desk in the corner of the room. Stumbling to her feet, she launched her body forward, shoving the dagger into Jaime’s upper right shoulder.

The Kingslayer yelled in pain and spun to see his sister, glaring into his eyes. “You took too long!” Cersei screamed as Jaime dragged the blade from his back. Jaime snarled at her. “You think I came for you!?”

At the worlds, Cersei balled her fists and pounded them into his chest. Jaime stood looking down at her as though distracted by a fly more than a madwoman pounding on him. “How dare you!” Cersei yelled. “You were supposed to protect me. My twin. My other half. My love.”

Jaime grimaced and his posture softened for a moment before he looked back at her. Blood poured down his back and widows wail dropped at this side. Then his lip curled into a snarl. “You never loved me. And you were never meant to. I know love now.”

At his words, Cersei’s eyes widened in shock. “That fucking cow, isn’t it! Did they chop off your balls in the Riverlands too!? Or perhaps a blow to the head. That must be it. How could you ever turn your back on me for that ugly beast.” Cersei screamed and pounded on his chest again. Tears pouring down her face until there were no tears left to cry.

Jaime grabbed her arms and forced her to meet his eyes. “Brienne is more beautiful than you could ever be.” As he said the words, his hands, one false and one golden, wrapped around her neck. Cersei’s face contorted into shock as panic set in and her body flailed.

“Not you.” Cersei choked. “It was supposed to be _him_.” Jaime squeezed tighter and tighter. Arya stumbled to his side and looked down into Cersei’s face. “For Brienne.” Arya stabbed her again with needle as Jaime’s hands kept squeezing Cersei’s throat. Cersei ceased to draw breath.

From behind Jaime and Arya, the Mountain made a killing blow to Tormund, but not before Greyworm cut clear through his thick neck. Jaime snapped his head around in time to see the wildling fall and the Mountain’s head roll feet away from the trio.

“Tormund!” Jaime leapt to his feet and caught the red-headed wildling.

Tormund let out a barking laugh and clutched at Jaime’s shoulder. “Kingkiller.” Jaime grimaced at the title now with added meaning.

“Take care of her. The big woman.” A dragon’s cry shook the keep as Arya tugged at Jaime’s arm. 

“We need to get out of here. We need to ring the bells. Signal the surrender.” Arya looked between Jaime and Greyworm. Jaime moved to stand and Tormund leaned his head back against the wall in acceptance of his fate. Bran watched a strange look come over Greywomr’s face. Greyworm looked towards the ceiling of the keep and then back to Jaime who had approached Arya to look over her injury.

“We need to bind that. You’re losing a lot of blood.” Arya looked over her arm as Jaime moved to find something to wrap her arm with.

“There’s no time for all that! We have to ring the bells.”

Jaime ignored her, still frantically search the room for something before settling on the Hound’s discarded cape. Bran watched as Greyworm slowly paced around to Jaime’s backside with a pained expression on his face.

“I sorry.” The Unsullied commander said and hit Jaime over the head with the pommel of this sword, knocking the knight out. 

Arya looked at the Unsullied commander in horror and turned to run, but Greyworm grabbed her injured arm and yanked her backwards, delivering a similar blow to her head. From his jerkin, Greyworm produced rope and bound their hands behind their backs. From the direction of the passage where Tormund, Jaime, and Greyworm had previously emerged, Tyrion walked out hurriedly. Casting a glance over the scene in the room. 

Tyrion looked up at Greyworm with a solemn expression. “Daenerys will be here momentarily.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry Tormund fans. But hey... this is Game of Thrones. Pour one out for my favorite wildling.


	20. Brienne IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne arrives at the battle

Battling the dead brought with it an eerie silence. Dead men don’t speak. The dead’s movements were predictable as they clawed forward to reach an end goal; a mindless, obsessed dance. Their eyes were vacant, uncaring, and unremorseful. Self-sacrifice wasn’t a consideration to the dead. Merely an expectation. Brienne remembered the horrifying image of dead soldiers building a bridge using their own bodies over flames to further their march to the castle walls. Their common goal… create more death. Find and kill Bran. Battling other living soldiers proved to be an altogether different situation.

The Golden Company was strategic, unpredictable, and hungry for life. These men were loud. Screaming in fury and pain. Screaming commands amongst their ranks. They were also sellswords. Self-sacrifice was not an option. They cared not for glory, but rather achieving their directive to ensure arrival of their next payday. Their common goal… win at any cost with as little loss as possible.

Brienne almost found herself preferring the dead men. Entering the chaos was overwhelming and her wounds screamed at her to retreat. Brienne could feel her stitches starting to open as her armor rubbed violently against the wounds. Despite her body’s pleas, she could think of nothing other than her friends, comrades, and bannermen fighting on her behalf. Of Jaime. 

As Brienne mowed down man after man and approached the gates, she could see despair in the eyes of the sellswords. This was no longer a fight worth the money. To her right, she heard Wetserosi accents screaming for aid. There before her, cutting down her allies was a man of her size, golden armor, and shoulder length, brown hair. She immediately recognized the man as Commander Strickland.

Like any soldier in Westeros, she heard the stories of the Golden Company and their fearless commander. The stories didn’t quite do him justice. He looked like a god among them and moved with an ease and grace that reminded her of Jaime; albeit with two hands and far less care for his own men. Strickland used his men as a shield as he sought to reach the next man from her camp.

Frantically looking between the gates to where she knew Jaime was and her bannerman being assaulted by Strickland, Brienne acted. Taking long strides towards Strickland, Brienne observed his fighting style and committed the most important elements to memory. Mere feet from his side, Brienne raised Oathkeeper and swung down. What she didn’t expect, was the commander to deflect her blow without so much as looking in her direction. With a kick to his right knee with as much force as she could muster, she now had his attention. The dance began.

Brienne quickly realized that her first assessment was correct. He fought like Jaime. Her mind was transported back to their battle on the bridge. _Don’t grimace. You give away the game._

Around her, she sensed men from both sides, blocking, striking, and shuffling. Brienne only saw her opponent though. Strickland was stronger than she expected. That or her wound deprived her of the usual gusto with which she rained blows down on opponents. They moved back and forth, strikes and counter-strikes, until Brienne’s attention was caught by a large mass moving towards them; Drogon.

Rolling right and fading to the ground, Brienne slashed behind Strickland’s leg. The sellsword fell to the ground, grunting in pain from the cut. Before she could right herself, his sword found its way into her left calf. A white, searing pain spread through Brienne’s leg. She rounded on him with a right fist while Strickland pulled back his blade to strike again. This time, Brienne was prepared and met his blow with a strong block. Her fist connected with his face again and bought her enough time to reach the dagger in her right boot; a trick learned from her sparring sessions with Arya. 

As Strickland blocked Brienne’s blow from the left using Oathkeeper, her right hand met his throat with the dagger. Blood poured from the man’s neck and out from his mouth. A shocked expression fell over his face as he truly took a looked Brienne for the first time during their fight. _Yes, you were brought down by a woman_. Brienne knew that look. She had seen it countless times during her life.

With the rush of adrenaline passing, Brienne noticed how dizzy she suddenly felt. She moved to stand, but found herself stumbling slightly, vision hazy. She felt a presence to her right; not an ally. Before her sword came up to block the blow, another sword appeared from behind her shoulder to deflect the attack. Brienne shoved her sword through the sellsword and spun to see her father standing before her, an expression tinged with equal parts concern and pride.

“Nice move with the dagger girl. Now tell me what the fuck you think you’re doing here.”

Before she could muster a response, he sighed and grabbed her arm. “Your boy went this way.”

Selwyn pulled Brienne away from the front gate and around the eastern walls towards the bay. Looking to her right, she could see Tarth soldiers, her homeland, firing well placed arrows at the sellswords atop of the battlements. Stumbling forward, father and daughter fell to the ground suddenly as the outer wall of the city erupted under dragon fire. Huge chunks of the wall fell on enemy and ally alike.

Brienne looked to the wall, then the dragon circling back up into the sky, and then to Selwyn. He barked at her. “We need to move NOW!”

They picked up their pace and came to a cove. Making their way inside, Selwyn indicated that Jaime and a small group had entered there to attempt to capture Cersei and signal the surrender of the city.

He looked directly into her face. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Brienne mustered as much conviction as she could, but she knew she was running on fumes. Her breathing felt restricted and her stitched wound was on fire. A warm, wet sensation dripping between her armor and tunic. Her leg was gushing blood which would need to be bound shortly lest she pass out from blood loss.

Zig zagging through the tunnel, they rounded a corner and stumbled up a most unpleasant sight. Half dozen Unsullied stood huddled together discussing what Brienne presumed to be marching orders.

Father and daughter locked eyes and a silent conversation passed between them. Raising their swords, they charged ahead. Brienne was transported back to her childhood. Sparring with her father felt as natural as sparring with Jaime. She could feel his strikes before he made them. Within moments, both had felled an unsullied each. A third attacked Selwyn as he downed the first man, glancing a blow off his right leg. As Brienne took out the fourth man, she pivoted and stabbed the Unsullied who had sliced her father’s leg. Two left.

Before Selwyn could so much as look at her, Brienne had jumped forward and swiftly took out the remaining two men. Selwyn looked at her like she parted the seas.

“Gods girl. You have been away long. Where did you learn those move?”

“No one.” Brienne smirked and looked forward towards the next section of tunnels.

The two made their way deeper into the city tunnels. Along the way, they encountered a few errant soldiers, but nothing that they couldn’t handle with ease. After one such altercation, they removed a cloak from a felled guard to create makeshift tourniquets for their injuries. 

Brienne’s leg seemed to have a heartbeat all its own. The blood loss had certainly taken its toll. She bent at the waist, hands braced on her knees, in attempt to steady herself. She felt her father’s commanding presence at her side.

“You are too injured Brienne! This is absurd.”  
Brienne gritted her teeth. “I can’t stop now! I have to find him.”

“Brienne. He came in here with four other fighters. They all looked quite capable to me. I’m but an old man and you are seriously injured, yet here we are making our way through! I’m sure they are fine. All the queen’s men seem to have been sent to the frontlines. They bells are likely to ring out any moment now.”

 _He doesn’t understand._ “Father, it is not Cersei I am worried about. It is the dragon queen. She is going to kill Jaime. It’s a trap!”

Selwyn took in her words and ran a calloused palm over his face. “Seven hells! Let me go ahead. You rest here. I promise you that I will get the boy.”

“I will do no such thing! Stand aside father.” Brienne moved to push past the man, but he grabbed her arm.

“Why must you be so bloody stubborn! Do you have some kind of savior complex!?”

Brienne could feel her anger rising.

“I won’t leave him behind. He has never left me behind.” Brienne expected an argument, but none came. Her father almost looked resigned. 

“Fine. We stay together. And damnit you tell me if you need help!”

Brienne nodded her agreement and the two pressed on. It was not long before Brienne could sense they were nearing their destination. It took everything in her to not break into a sprint in effort to get to Jaime.

Brienne and Selwyn rounded what they believed to be the last corner and there at the bottom of the stairs which they assumed led into the map room, stood about 20 Unsullied guards. Queen Daenerys beside them.


	21. Jaime VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to face the Dragon Queen.

Jaime came to on the floor of the map room. His vision was hazy and he slowly realized that he was laying on his side. He had a throbbing pain in his head only overmatched by the searing pain in the upper right side of his back where his sister’s blade had found the space between his armor and skin.

 _Seven hells what hit me_. _Did more pieces of the ceiling fall?_ Slowly as his vision became more focused, he could make out the outline of his sister’s body crumpled on the floor just off the edge of the map. _Cersei_. Trying to sit up, Jaime realized that he could barely move. His hands and feet were bound; hands pulled behind his back tightly by something…. _Rope_.

Jaime hadn’t entered the map room intending to kill Cersei. The plan had been to merely capture her and surrender the city. He trusted Brienne more than himself on the matter of what to do with Cersei’s fate. Strangely, he didn’t feel remorse. The knife wound to the back certainly eased any guilt he might have felt.

He moved to sit up and only then realized that yes, the pain in his head was as sharp as the pain in his back. Looking around, he saw Arya’s small body crumpled on the floor next to him. Deceased bodies of Tormund, the Mountain, and the Hound on the opposite side of the room. He looked back at Arya then and saw the pool of blood by her head. _Shit_. _She must have taken a brick to the head too._ He looked closer to see she was still breathing. _Thank the Gods. Death by brick would have been a pathetic way to go after everything else she had been through._

Then Jaime saw him. His little brother. Tyrion stood next to Greyworm avoiding Jaime’s gaze. _By the seven what is happening. Did we win? Is it over?_

“Tyrion. What are you…” before Jaime could finish his question, he heard movement form behind his back. He strained his neck in time to see a flurry of white fur storming past him to stand before his brother. The Dragon Queen.

They spoke in barely audible tones and Jaime watched in his confusion as his brother’s eyebrows arched into an expression that could only be described as surprise. The Unsullied army slowly filed into the room forming a wide circle around Jaime and Arya. Jaime’s confusion gave way to one of panic. _Something is wrong_.

“Put them next to the other prisoners.” Daenerys commanded to someone behind Jaime. _Prisoners?_ As he watched the guards drop another body next to him, Jaime’s jaw slackened in horror. Brienne was shoved down to the floor to his right and she let out a guttural, painfilled gasp. Her father was shoved down to her right side.

Jaime looked down from her face to see blood pouring down from under her armor and her left leg. Judging by Selwyn’s pained groan and shuffling of his weight to one side, Jaime realized that he had been wounded as well.

“Brienne! What are you doing here!?” Jaime stared at Brienne as though he had seen a ghost. _Oh Gods no. They’re going to kill us. But Tyrion is here…_

Brienne turned to meet his eyes, but he didn’t need to hear her response. The look of pain and sorrow clouded her eyes.

“Silence! You will speak only when spoken to.” Daenerys’ face was filled with rage as she glared at Jaime. He saw it then. The violet flames danced just as her father’s did before he would enjoy torturing men in the throne room. Burning them alive. Smiling villainously as the scream climbed up the rafters.

“Have you gone mad? Oh no wait… don’t answer that. Silly question.” At his comment, Jaime heard both Tarth kin exhale in audible irritation. Then Selwyn muttered “Hold your tongue boy.”

“Tyrion! What is going on?” Jaime couldn’t control himself. He was truly the definition of verbal diarrhea.

As if Jaime needed further confirmation that Selwyn and Brienne were related, the both berated him under their breath. “Do shut up!” Cocking his head to the right, they were both glaring at him; eyes imploring him to do what the Dragon Queen says.

“Best listen to those Tarths you enjoy so much Kingslayer. You’re already down one hand after all.”

“I’m down a hand… you’re down a mind. Maybe we’re related too.” Jaime snarled at the woman before him. Now irritated that he hadn’t thought to kill her in Winterfell.

“Jaime! Please!” Brienne’s tone brokered no argument and Selwyn only hung his head in frustration.

“If you speak one more time, I will kill your lady knight in front of you.”

 _No!_ _Gods not Brienne_. Well now that shut him up. Jaime looked to the ground after casting a panicked, apologetic look at Brienne.

Daenerys started to pace in front of them. “Well I have to say, I didn’t expect you all would make it _this_ easy for me.” At that, she cast a look to Tyrion who only looked straight ahead, hands behind his back.

Jaime’s heart sank. He had already been betrayed by one sibling. He never imagined Tyrion would wield the next dagger. _Why? Why is this happening? Gods please keep Brienne safe._

Daenerys took pause while still facing Tyrion; as though she was taking appraisal of him for the first time. Then she turned back to face Jaime, Brienne, and Selwyn. “Varys told me that Tyrion was the cleverest man in Westeros. I believed Varys at first, but then your brother failed me at every turn once we arrived at Dragonstone. Initially I thought his resolve was failing once it came time to remove his kin. Then he gave me the best advice yet. Advice I had never considered before. To succeed in Westeros you need to play the game. You need to spin lies and secrecy.”

Jaime’s eyes shifted from Daenerys to Tyrion _. Oh brother. What have you done. You’ve made a deal with the Stranger himself and you don’t even realize it._

Daenerys pressed on. “Of course, I don’t think even he anticipated how foolish your lady knight would be.”

From the corner of Jaime’s eye, he saw Brienne stiffen. “I suppose the stupidest Lannister deserves the stupidest Tarth. Not that there are many of your houses left to contend for the honor.”

Daenerys paused to enjoy the glares from the three prisoners before her. “The plan was only to kill you, Kingslayer. I would bid my time at court. Getting close to Brienne. Slowly winning favor with the other great houses all the while pointing out her flaws as a leader. Pushing her to consider abdicating for the good of Westeros. Even if I couldn’t sway them and Brienne didn’t abdicate, Gods knows she would never produce an heir. Tyrion here explained to me that Lady Brienne has been betrothed, what was it? Three times?” Daenerys barked a laugh and Jaime’s heart broke as he watched Brienne hang her head in shame. It took everything in him not to speak up. Not to mention how all the other men she met were pure fools. How amazing she is. How she is his WIFE.

Daenerys was now throwing her head back with mirth. “Couldn’t even sell her off, could you? Surely no man would ever lay with her. It seems the Kingslayer was the only desperate enough in all of Westeros. With him dead, Brienne would have me as heir. Of course, I imagine it would have been irrelevant. I would have easily convinced her to abdicate after being shamed out of court. Tyrion told me all about the last time she was in court here at king’s landing. ‘Great lumbering cow’ was it?” At that she looked back at Tyrion who had the good graces to look ashamed.

“Either way, her reign wouldn’t last. The masses would rise against her with the proper influence on my part. Soon all of Westeros would rally to me.”

Jaime’s couldn’t believe it. He looked at Tyrion who refused to meet his eyes. _Pathetic, power hungry, little creature. Perhaps he and Cersei should have been the ones to lay together._

To his right, he could feel Brienne’s and Selywn’s rage building, mirroring his own.

“Well now I don’t have to do any of that! You’ve made it all _so easy_. It seems our brave heroes bit off more than they could chew.” Daenerys feigned a frown. “Rushed in to capture Cersei, but every last one of them was executed by the Queensguard. Luckily, I was here with my group of Unsullied to save the day and kill the evil Queen. I’ve avenged your deaths. You are all very welcome.”

Jaime could feel his pulse quickening and his hand balling into a fist. He didn’t care how many Unsullied there were. If he was going to die, he would die taking down as many as he could. Knowing Brienne as well as he did, he imagined she was envisioning the same. 

Daenerys was enjoying this. She was looking down at them, pacing wildly back and forth. Jaime inched closer to Brienne and tried to grab her hand as best he could given both had their hands bound behind their backs.

“I’m sorry. I love you” Jaime whispered to her. He looked into her eyes and saw _that look_. The look she gave him when he left her behind at Harrenhal. Acutely aware that she was about to die, but defiant. Chin pointed up. Not a single tear to be seen.

Their interaction did not go unnoticed by Daenerys who turned on heel to look at them. “I’m sorry, did you say something? I hope it was goodbye, because you’ve just sealed your lady knight’s fate. Greyworm. Start with the false queen. Bring her here.”

Jaime’s eyes went wild with terror. “No! No! Start with me. Please. Is it because I killed Aerys? Take your revenge then. Brienne will abdicate. Torture me for all I care, but please leave her be. Let them go home to Tarth. They won’t bother anyone. They have never tried to claim the throne.”

Daenerys threw back her head, howling in laughter. “You do think me mad, don’t you? Why would I let her go? Those people out there worship her. No. That won’t do. Greyworm, now.”

As she said the words, Greyworm slowly approached the group of four, Arya still unconscious next to Jaime. He leaned down to loop his arm under Brienne’s bound arms to lift her to a standing position. Jaime wouldn’t let go of her hand. Couldn’t let go.

Greyworm grunted in frustration and pulled harder. Brienne fell forward in pain; blood smearing on the floor. Greyworm pulled again and hauled her to her feet. He shot Jaime a vicious glare which was well returned.

“Jaime. Jaime.” Jaime looked at her. She looked so calm. So defiant. It broke his heart. “I don’t regret coming for you. I never would.” Jaime felt tears at the back of his eyes. His heart was being ripped out.

Greyworm moved Brienne before Daenerys and shoved her down to her knees. Jaime’s head was spinning. Visions of Brienne being dragged off by Locke’s men. Brienne being thrown in a bear pit. Brienne being swarmed by the dead. Brienne taking an arrow for him. Brienne’s smile. That small, private smile she hid from so many, but he saw every night when he closed his eyes; mirth shining in her sapphire pools.

Greyworm took Oathkeeper from her waist. Jaime went numb. He saw Brienne turn to Greyworm, resolute and confident as she said “Valar Morghulis.” Greyworm wore the same expression as Brienne while replying “Valar Dohaeris.”

There was a ringing in Jaime’s ears and somewhere in the distance, he could hear Selwyn screaming. He had to move. He had to get to her. He had to fight for her. Jaime shot to his feet, hands still bound behind his back, and lunged forward, but Greyworm was too quick and too strong. He delivered a punch to the side of Jaime’s face, knocking him to the floor again.

Brienne screamed for Jaime and made to move, but Greyworm held her in place forcefully, pushing her down. The angle at which Brienne’s body torqued while trying to get to Jaime must have put too much pressure on her leg because she grimaced in pain and collapsed backwards under the strain. Greyworm pulled her back onto her knees and again cast his glance down at Jaime.

If Jaime hadn’t known Greyworm was about to kill his beloved, he would have described the general’s expression as remorseful. 

Jaime turned to observe his goodfather sinking back down onto his knees; favoring his good leg to place most of his weight. Jaime realized that Selwyn must have made to move towards them as Daenerys had stepped opposingly in his direction and was glaring at him.

“If either of you so much as move a hair, I will have Greyworm take her apart limb by limb rather than with a swift strike to the neck.”

Daenerys snapped her attention back to Greyworm and Brienne. “Greyworm, I said now!”, Daenerys barked. The Unsullied general just kept looking between the two women, then he glanced back at Jaime; a resigned look on his face. Jaime begged him. “Please don’t. You don’t have to do this.” Then Greyworm looked up at Daenerys.

“Torgo Nudho. I free. I choose.” As Jaime watched Daenerys face twist into confusion, a sudden cry escaped her lips. Jaime watched as the steel tip of a blade slowly emerged through the front of her chest. Widows Wail. As she fell to her knees, Jaime could see Tyrion standing behind her. A fierce grimace etched across his face.

Daenerys spat blood and looked beseechingly towards her general. “Greyworm. Do… something…” Daenerys spluttered. The Unsullied general didn’t move. One by one, Jaime observed as the Unsullied removed their helms, revealing Northmen, Pod, Addam, and Daven. Daenerys gasped in horror and Tyrion walked around to face her directly.

“I would have followed you, but you lied to all of us who fought for you. You already knew how to lie. I just taught you what happens when you pit a lion against his pride.”

Greyworm walked slowly up to Daenerys and slit her throat with Oathkeeper. 


	22. Bran IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last part of the battle. Probably a few more chapters after this.
> 
> Warning: This chapter has descriptive scenes of injuries and chaos caused by explosions

Bran had barely moved from his perch atop the map room in the keep. He looked down on the scene below and saw the disguised Northmen and Lannister generals move to cut the bindings of Jaime, Brienne, and Selwyn.

Jaime practically tackled Brienne in relief. Bringing her head against his chest and muttering something that Bran couldn’t hear from his position. Selwyn and Tyrion joined them, grabbing a shoulder of each of their kin before all four were embracing. Bran observed Greyworm. He could tell that the Unsullied general’s heart broke. He had been the only one aside from Daenerys to not know of Tyrion’s plot.

Brienne looked up from the suffocating embrace she was on the receiving end of and towards Greyworm. “Are you OK?” The Unsullied nodded slowly and sat down next to his fallen queen.

Pod moved to Arya and tried to get her up with the help of a northman, but the young wolf was in bad shape. Jaime’s men approached and spoke hurriedly. “The bells. We have to signal the city’s surrender. The Golden Company are likely still fighting.”

Before anyone could move to exit, Bran heard it. The dragons screamed in the distance as though sensing their mother had taken in her last breath. Bran turned on his perch to look out to the skies. Drogon and Rhaegal were headed straight for the keep in a fury. Fire blazing in a mix of grief and anger at their mother’s death. They were coming to avenge her.

Back at the Weirdwood, Bran started convulsing. Distantly Bran could feel his sister’s hands on his arms, urging him to return. He heard Sansa screaming his name, begging him to open his eyes.

He couldn’t. It was his time in this battle.

With all the concentration Bran could muster, he let his mind lead him away. His body burned as those his skin was about to peel off. His ears took in every sound around him tenfold. His nostrils inhaled the pungent aroma of death, city filth, and sea air. He opened his eyes… in Drogon’s body.

Looking to his left, he saw Rhaegal. The dragon’s brother was darting through the sky alongside him. Eyes fixed on the keep ahead. A shared understanding for the vengeance they must unleash. Rhaegal was unaware of the change in Drogon’s mind.

Bran veered Drogon’s body into Rhaegal. He raked his talons along the brother dragon’s length. Rhaegal screamed out and lifted his own talons in return.

Bran felt the sensation of flesh being torn from his body. Of blood oozing out of his scales and dripping onto the city below. He was locked in a midair battle with this beast. Fortunately for Bran, he was in control of the larger dragon. He had the advantage of size.

Rhaegal darted away, spewing fire at Drogon and in the process, breathing fire onto the city below. In the distance Bran could see yellow flames pour on top of inns and shops. Wagons and horses. Rhaegal righted himself and circled around towards Drogon, spewing more flames. Bran dove Drogon’s body down, barely pulling up in time before crashing into the top of the city’s westernmost battlement. Soldiers scattered for cover at the sight of two dragons fighting in the sky.

Bran angled up and charged at the dragon’s brother again. Fire spewed forth and caught the backside of Rhaegal. The two came together in midair again. This time, Bran was able to slash at Rhaegal’s neck with his talon. Rhaegal screamed out and dove down from his brother.

It seemed as though Rhaegal lost all sense of direction at that moment. He started breathing fire with little care for what direction it went. Without warning, a blast went off from below and a plume of green smoke filled the air. Wildfire.

Bran realized that their flames were so hot they were igniting the wildfire barrels in tunnels under the city. Bran knew he had to somehow get Rhaegal to chase him over the sea and away from the city. 

Rather than reengage his brother, Bran flew out towards the bay hoping the brother dragon would follow. Rhaegal righted himself and to Bran’s surprise, flew straight for the keep. Bran took off after the other dragon, breathing fire on his tail. A vain attempt to get the other dragon to turn around. It was as though Rhaegal was possessed. He had to get to Daenerys’ lifeless body, but why?

Rhaegal landed on top of the keep as Bran had observed Drogon do earlier in the battle. Drogon had flown to the top of the keep after dropping Daenerys off at city level to meet with her group of ‘Unsullied’.

The top of the keep shook and Bran observed pieces begin to crumble. Bran had to do something fast.

Bran charged straight at Rhaegal and reared up in time to meet him, talons first. He grabbed the smaller dragon, driving him backwards off the keep back out over the bay. Over the Blackwater, the two dragons came together. Bran lost track of which talons belonged to which dragon. He felt as though he was being torn to shreds, but he kept clawing.

Rhaegal was shrieking in pain and Bran heard his own cries in his throat. Bran pulled back his head and dove towards Rhaegal’s neck, taking a massive bite out of the brother dragon. Rhaegal began to fall backwards towards the sea below and Bran pulled back his head to release a massive blast of flames. Rhaegal’s cries were shrill and cut through the air for miles around.

With a heavy splash, the dragon went down into the water. Only a dead carcass resurfaced. Bran knew what he had to do next. He had to die.

Bran swooped back towards the battlements where a handful of remaining scorpions sat. Most had been lost in the battle, but two sat untouched on the remaining chunk of the eastern battlement. Bran hoovered in midair, holding Drogon in front of the Scorpion, mentally imploring the men atop the walls to fire on him. He opened his wings wide to expose the belly of the beast he controlled.

He observed as soldiers from different camps ran to the scorpion as if understanding his desperate thoughts. Bran held true and braced himself. The men angled the scorpions in unison and let loose. Bran closed his eyes and held his breath.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring into the piercing blue eyes of his sister. He was on his back at the foot of the Weirdwood tree. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he looked up at her. Sansa looked horrified and distantly he could hear her screaming to stay with her.

“I fought a dragon.” Then he closed his eyes and let his mind wander. 

He was tired. So tired. But he needed to know the outcome. Bran opened his eyes and was back in the raven’s body. He peered down into the empty map room. Only the dead bodies and pools of blood remained behind.

He had to find them. 

Bran flew out into the city. The bells were ringing and the Golden Company soldiers that had not yet been felled were dropping their weapons. Alarmed citizens opened their doors and windows to see what was happening. Bran looked to the east and saw the dead body of Drogon. Two massive arrows had pierced the dragon’s chest. Bran knew where he had to go.

The west end of the city. The wildfire.

Bran headed into the thick smoke coating the western side of the city. As he flew and dropped lower, some of the smoke cleared enough to see the ground below. It was horrifying. Disembodied limbs littered the streets. Blood stained the stonework and ground. People screaming, dying, begging for help.

Mothers with babes in their arms cried out. Pleading. “Help me! Someone! Take my child!”

Through the smoke, Bran spotted the group he was looking for. Most able bodied men and women were running away from the west end, but this group was making their way in.

Jaime, Brienne, Selwyn, Pod, Greyworm, and a handful of soldiers from each of their camps; Northmen, Westerlands, Stormlands, Unsullied, Dothraki, and Vale. Maybe 15 total, working together to help remove the injured and bring them to safety. In the distance, another wildfire cache caught.

It was carnage. Bran lost track of how many trips the group made in and out of the smoke, carrying people; men, women, children, babes. They brought them towards the center of the city where other citizens came out from their homes with makeshift tourniquets to bind wounds. 

They had to move faster. They needed more help. Fires were ablaze in some of the homes and structures were beginning to topple. The group of 15 became a group of 10 as they lost 5 to fallen buildings.

Bran lost track of time. How long had it been? Was there anyone left to save? Suddenly, five figures appeared. Jaime, Brienne, Selwyn, Greyworm, and a Northman. Selwyn seemed hesitant to push further. It appeared the group had agreed to head back out. Bran couldn’t see any movement from survivors below as he quickly scanned the area.

As the group of five turned around, fatigued and limping, Brienne came to a stop. Bran observed as she and Jaime turned towards a building and then Brienne took off in a sprint towards it. Jaime yelled after her, but was several paces behind. Brienne disappeared into the building and Bran lost track of her as a sea breeze pushed a plume of smoke back over the building Brienne had run into. Bran heard rumbling and by the time the smoke cleared, he saw that the building had fallen. Jaime was frantically digging. He stopped and yelled back towards the direction the larger group had gone.

Within moments more men rushed forth. They started pulling apart the rubble and Jaime reached down into a crevasse that appeared from under the cleared rubble. He reached in and pulled out a small babe, wrapped in a linen blanket and crying.

Jaime handed the babe back to a soldier who ran the babe to safety. Then Jaime turned his attention back to the crevasse. Moments later, Bran observed two arms grasping at Jaime’s biceps as he pulled his body backwards. Two soldiers kept clearing rubble and then grabbed the pair of arms holding tight to Jaime.

Brienne.


	23. Tyrion IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Tyrion's mind

The battle had ended some hours ago and Tyrion walked the streets of the west end of the capital. He was awestruck by the destruction, chaos, and gore. He made his way through the rubble and towards the city center where crowds had been scurrying about tending to the injured. The injuries were horrific. Brutal and devastating. All these people wanted to do was live life. They could care less for who sat on the throne so long as their lives weren’t negatively infringed upon. Tyrion wanted to bring them peace. He brought them fire and blood.

Tyrion’s stomach dropped at the thought. The past two moon turns had been the most emotionally exhausting of his life. The fear and worry wore away at him day after day. He knew it the day of the battle on the Goldroad. Daenerys was mad. The way she burned the Lannister bannerman. They way her eyes glittered with mirth at their screams.

He spent the better part of that year begging her not to fly the dragons into the city and burn innocents. That wasn’t the way to win over the people of Westeros. They just wanted peace, justice, and stable sovereigns.

Then they arrived at Winterfell and Tyrion saw the fissures widening. Her sheer obsession with having everyone bend the knee. She went from breaker of chains to forger of chains. Even her closest allies feared speaking up. Varys had become a shell of himself and his little birds stopped singing their songs; likely too afraid to catch the wrath of the dragon queen.

Tyrion was afraid he had fallen into a pit from which there was no escape. When Jon Snow fell, Tyrion’s spirits fell even more. He hoped the Stark bastard could keep Daenerys’ rage in check. Maybe she just needed love and devotion to balance her thirst for power, fire, and blood. He remembered back to the night on the boat following the summit at the Dragon pit, watching Jon going into Daenerys’ chambers. Tyrion had worried for her emotional volatility and wondering if they’re partnering could course correct her behaviors.

Even Jon didn’t escape her rage in the end once Daenerys realized he was a trueborn Targaryen. A rival for her throne. Tyrion sensed tension the days before the battle. He only realized after Jon had fallen why that tension came to be.

The only happiness he had in those days was being with his brother, Brienne, and Pod. His little makeshift family and bubble to escape the insanity. He loved the way his brother’s eyes lit up when Brienne entered a room. He hadn’t seen Jaime smile since they were boys playing at the Rock. Tyrion knew instantly that Jaime loved Brienne, but he was taken aback by how deep his brother’s love for her ran. Tyrion was thrilled. That was Tyrion’s first lie. He adored his big brother. Were it not for Jaime, Tyrion knew he wouldn’t have survived his childhood. Jaime was the only one who didn’t think him a monster. The only one who fought for him. The only one who thought him worthy of anything befitting a nobleman of a great house.

And Brienne.

That was Tyrion’s second lie. He didn’t resent Brienne for taking away his family. Tyrion loved her for restoring his chance at family. Under Brienne’s influence, Jaime became the man Tyrion always knew him to be.

Brienne was incredible. Kind, just, brave, honorable, loyal, and the best part… in love with his brother. He was alight with the prospect of nieces and nephews that his brother could finally claim and whose mother would not despise Tyrion as an uncle and goodbrother. Glorious warrior babies they would make. He couldn’t wait to spoil their brood. Then Bran’s words blew out that glimmer of hope. Tyrion saw it in Daenerys’ eyes. He saw the madness. The jealousy. The rage.

Tyrion had to think fast. He did what he does best. Observed. He watched Brienne’s interaction with everyone in the yard. Everyone in the hall. Everyone in the war room. Similarly, he observed the interactions of everyone encountering the dragon queen. Finding Northerners who despised Daenerys and respected Brienne came easy enough. Finding men he felt capable of keeping the plan a secret was harder. Admittedly, Addam and Daven were last minute additions, but he wanted them to see Daenerys for what she was too. Wanted them to understand what the North already knew. He also wanted people there he knew would fight for Jaime if it came down to it. He doubted the Northmen would.

So Tyrion selected the men. The men he could trust to ensure Jaime and Brienne made it through this war. To ensure Daenerys did not. He mapped out a plan. Jaime and a small team would head into the city to capture Cersei. These men could not know of the plan. Bran had already told Tyrion of Arya’s plans and Tyrion hoped the entire “capturing Cersei” part would be a non-issue compared to the real task at hand.

Tyrion knew his sister. She grew cocky and drunk with power in her later years. She became sloppy. The fact that she let him walk out of the Dragon Pit meetings with his life told him as much. Tyrion knew Cersei wouldn’t leave the keep. She put too much faith in that creature to guard her. She would send everyone else to the frontlines to ensure her victory and if not, she would set the city ablaze with wildfire. She would feel no need for extra Queensguard during the battle.

After dealing with Cersei, Tyrion would have Daenerys meet up with Tyrion’s hand-selected ‘Unsullied’ in the tunnels after Greyworm captured Jaime. The original plan was to have Greywom insist that he and Jaime stay behind to hold Cersei prisoner while the other 3 left to ring the bells. 

Tyrion informed Greyworm of this part of his plan. Greyworm believed the plan was to take out Jaime. Greyworm was similar to Brienne in one regard; unwavering loyalty. He watched the way Greyworm’s eyes flashed with rage at Jaime’s insolence in war council meetings. It was easy to convince Greyworm that this plot against Jaime was warranted. Greyworm would capture Jaime and await Daenerys to arrive with the ‘Unsullied’. Greyworm was the only one, aside from Jaime and Daenerys, who didn’t know the truth of it. The real trap was for Daenerys. 

Tyrion knew he couldn’t let Jaime in on the plan. Jaime would think it too risky. As impressive of an army commander that Jaime was, he was not a risk taker with his men’s lives. He did not think of them as pawns. Further, Tyrion knew his brother’s attitude. Mouthy in the worst of times.

He needed Jaime in shock, angry, and feeling betrayed. That would keep Daenerys unaware of the plot. His brother was _not_ a good actor. He wore the truth on his face; plain as he did his feelings for Brienne. The only thing Daenerys had the right of… Tyrion underestimated Brienne.

When Tyrion heard of Brienne and Selwyn being captured, his heart nearly stopped. He hoped his face didn’t betray his fear for her. He also knew this would make his brother volatile. He would do anything to protect Brienne. In hindsight, Tyrion realized it was Brienne’s presence that pushed Greyworm to make the decision he did. Greyworm didn’t care for Jaime, but he could tell that the Unsullied general respected Brienne to no end.

The plan all along was for Tyrion to kill Daenerys. He told his special team of ‘Unsullied’ as much. Tyrion assumed Greyworm would kill him on the spot for the betrayal; a price Tyrion was glad to pay for his brother and Brienne. A deserved consequence for brining Daenerys to Westeros. He warned the secret team of warriors that it might happened and not to feel guilt if they couldn’t get to him in time. 

What mattered was Daenerys falling. Despite the initial panic at seeing the extra prisoners, things worked out better than planned. After the battle, Greyworm went so far as to lie to the remaining Unsullied, Dothraki, and Second Sons. He told them that Daenerys was killed by the Mountain who caught the group unaware.

Tyrion pulled up short as he approached the inn he was looking for at the center of the capital. He stepped inside and was met with chaos. Healers and maseters bustled about, running up and down the stairs. Tyrion made his way upstairs to a room on the far end, guarded by two soldiers. With a head nod to the guards, he pushed open the door.

“Your Grace. Good afternoon.” Tyrion smiled widely as the couple turned to look at him from the bed. Brienne was laying on the bed, propped up slightly. She had on a loose tunic, but Tyrion could see substantial bruising to her body and face. The left leg of her breeches was rolled up, exposing the bandaging wrapped around the newly applied stitches. She also had a bandage around her head, covering the stitches that had been placed to close the nasty gash from the building collapse. She had been lucky to have been near the exit with the babe when the small inn fell. Brienne looked tired, but Tyrion figured that was to be expected give the day’s events. It wasn’t a regular occurrence that one participated in a siege involving some 30,000+ troops, survived near decapitation, pulled victims from the aftereffects of wildfire and dragon fire, and had a building collapse on them. Well… hopefully this wasn’t a regular occurrence for his goodsister. They shall need to have a chat if she plans on that kind of activity being a daily habit. 

Jaime sat in a chair pulled up to her bed. His right arm was draped lazily over Brienne’s waist and his head had been resting on Brienne’s stomach when Tyrion first entered the room. Brienne’s right fingers combing through his hair slowly. Jaime was shirtless, but his middle was heavily wrapped wrapped where the stitches had been placed to close the wound to his back. His hair was still covered in debris from the destruction of the west end. Similar to Brienne, he had some bruising and a smaller laceration near his brow.

Brienne grimaced, but smiled at Tyrion. “Please don’t call me that. Just Brienne.”

Tyrion smiled warmly at her. “Well then, please just call me Tyrion. Or any other name you feel I deserve after my little ploy. I’m certain Jaime here has some choice names he could recommend.”

Tyrion gave a small smirk to his brother who was trying his best to look angry and intimidating, but Tyrion could see the warmth in his eyes.

“Perhaps the next time you mean to use me as bait, you could give me the heads up. Or at least give Brienne the heads up so she doesn’t blindly run in after me.”

Tyrion gave a slight nod. “Fair enough. So, how are you both feeling?”

At that Jaime’s smile grew. “Well I always knew this stubborn woman’s rock-hard head would come into use at some point.” Tyrion stifled a laugh as Jaime received a swift punch to his shoulder at the remark.

Brienne spoke through gritted teeth. “Well I always knew that mouth of yours was far more likely to get me killed off than a building collapsing on top of me. Maybe the next time you just stop your prattling on.”

Jaime grimaced and cast an apologetic glance at Brienne. The remorseful expression on Jaime’s face quickly gave way to the all too familiar look of oncoming snark.

“And here I thought you enjoyed my prattling on. Would have been a dreadfully boring walk to King’s Landing were it not for my entertainment.”

At this Brienne roller her eyes. “Oh yes. It was so _entertaining_. I particularly enjoyed the bit with the bear. You know, dull is sometimes acceptable and preferable to _entertaining_.”

Tyrion watched on as his brother and goodsister exchanged prviate japes back and forth before jumping in.

“As much as I do enjoy watching your lady knight put you in your place brother, we should head back towards the camp and discuss what to do next. The armies have spent much of the afternoon helping clear out the dead, bringing the wounded here to the city center, and restoring order. They will need instruction.”

Jaime huffed and looked back to Tyrion. “Well then instruct them brother. You’re the brains of the operation. We just swing the swords and get lead unwittingly into your machinations.”

Tyrion felt his lips quirk up before continuing. “No brother, I don’t think you understand. They won’t take further action until they see their queen.”

The two grimaced at his words, but Tyrion pressed on. “Look you don’t need to give some longwinded speech; not that I think you capable of that my lady. They just mean to see that you are well. A little smile. A little wave. You can smile, can’t you?” Brienne cast a glare at Tyrion.

“Yes, just like that. Maybe a touch less menace like you mean to bite my head off.” At that, Brienne tilted her head and gave Tyrion a mocking smile. 

“Yes, better. Just a bit less Jaime now.” At that Brienne barked a laugh. Jaime’s head whipped to his wife with that soft, lovesick expression plastered on his face. Then his smile grew wide watching Brienne laugh so openly. He looked back at Tyrion and feigned offence.

“Is this how its to be then? The two of you teaming up against me.”

Sometime later and after much convincing, the two night were up and dressing at a snail’s pace. Tyrion had to fight the urge to take a nap himself while waiting for them. Eventually they were making their way down the stairs. At the sight of three, nearly all the hustle and bustle stopped. Moving outside, the whispers began.

“That’s them.”

“The saviors of the city.”

“They got us out.”

“Heard she slayed death itself.”

“Its them. They kill the mad ones.”

“Heard that’s why he did it. Saved us twice.”

Tyrion could see the pair of knights tense at the attention and their pace slowed. Tyrion watched as his brother grabbed Brienne’s elbow with his good hand. He leaned in and whispered. “Just keep walking least you want to be here all day telling battle stories like an old septa.”

The pair kept walking while offering shy, tentative smiles at the people gawking at them. Tyrion couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride for the pair. For once, Tyrion felt confident he was backing an honorable, just ruler with a halfway decent consort to boot.

Now it seemed, they had a coronation to plan and a small council to form.


	24. Selwyn II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so begineth the fluff. A couple more chapters to go and then maybe a sequel.
> 
> Now some of the Tarth house info is completely made up (eg house words - I pulled from a few folks who made up something similar that worked for this story) and some is from the books (eg mention of evenstar kings)

“Absolutely not! I will not wear a dress.” Selwyn stifled a laugh hearing his daughter’s defiant tone. He looked over his shoulder from the balcony to watch the seamstress scurry away while Sansa stood before Brienne, hands on her hips, a frustrated expression gracing her features.

“It is two events in your life Brienne! How else would you dress for your wedding and coronation? Do you imagine going out there in your armor, sword strapped to your hip, and helm over your head?”

“Sounds perfect. I hadn’t considered the helm, but thinking on it more it would spare everyone the visual strain. I had only thought to wear the armor and sword.”

“Oh lets not start that again! So self-deprecating. You truly have become a Lannister.” Sansa huffed in irritation and looked back to the seamstress who stood quaking in the corner. “Come here please, let me see that fabric again.”

The two women had been going at it for the better part of an hour. Selwyn knew the losing battle Sansa was facing, but this was not his war to fight. He turned to his goodson who sat next to him; overlooking the capital below. “I say we leave them to it. Surely there must be something better to occupy our time than listening to the ladies squabble over courtly attire.”

Jaime looked up at him with mirth in his eyes before casting a glance back at Sansa and Brienne. “For once I’m just happy to not be the focus of their wrath. This may be the bloodiest battle yet.”

Selwyn had truly grown to love the boy. He was amusing even if at times that amusement had Selwyn rubbing his forehead consternation at Jaime’s antic. 

It had been a moon’s turn since the siege on King’s Landing. The city’s west end and parts of the keep had been undergoing extensive restorative effort. Under normal circumstances, Brienne would have formally been crowned by now. His daughter however thought it in poor taste to have such a lavish event while people were still without homes and suffering life altering injuries.

A temporary council had formed and determined the wedding would happen in a fortnight. The coronation in another moon’s turn. The ordering of events had been greatly contested. Half of the noble houses felt the coronation should happen first. Half felt the wedding should be prioritized. In the end it was Selwyn who made the choice. The stalemate between opposing camps regarding sequencing of events lasted all of 24 hours before Selwyn brokered no argument over his decision.

Selwyn hadn’t intended to make the decision, but after one night of having his chambers assigned next door to his daughter and goodson, he claimed “father’s rights” and declared that wedding was happening _immediately_. He ensured his chambers were reassigned that day.

While it was common knowledge to those closest to Jaime and Brienne that they had wed secretly in the North under the old gods, it was not widespread knowledge that the couple was in fact wed. Even to those who knew of their union, southern tradition demanded the couple renew vows in the sept before the Seven.

Selwyn concurred that while change was good, too much change at once was overwhelming to the masses. Westeros already had its first Knight/Queen who marched about in breeches and preferred sparring in the training yard to entertaining in court. To have an _assumed_ unwed, noblewoman enjoying vigorous sparring of another sort in the evening with her ‘betrothed’ was a decidedly different matter. That and poor old Selwyn simply could not unhear some things. He also may have caught sight of too much of his goodson’s ass on one unfortunate occasion while trying to collect his daughter to break their fast.

Leaving the women to it, Selwyn and Jaime made their way to the yards to spar. Selwyn had grown to enjoy sparring with Jaime. Jaime’s style was so different from Brienne’s and his own. Where he and Brienne favored powerful blows and cautious exchange, Jaime was an aggressive, quick-footed fighter with incredible agility. Selwyn imagined he must have been near impossible to defeat with two hands.

After an hour or so of sparring, Selwyn and Jaime sat down to rehydrate and relax before heading back to the exhaustion that had become Sansa and Brienne.

“Is the guest list finalized yet?” Jaime inquired hesitantly and Selwyn could only laugh at the boy’s unease.

“I should hope so. I will need to raise land from the sea around Tarth should anyone else reply with acceptance to my invitation. The two of you are going to cost me a decade’s worth of profit to the island. The downside to marrying off the new sovereigns of Westeros who beat the dead and mad queens.”

Selwyn liked to feign annoyance at the ever-growing attendee list, but in truth he loved that not only had the day arrived when he could walk his daughter down the aisle, but that it was with a man who was head over heels in love with her and the entire bloody kingdom adored them. 

Before their conversation could continue, a chambermaid came running towards them. “M’lords beggin’ your pardon! Ser Jaime, you are needed most urgently in the keep.”

“Is everything alright?” Jaime looked concerned and Selwyn mirrored the sentiment.

“It’s m’lady. She has fainted again. The maester is with her.” Both men were on their feet in an instant; Jaime sprinting ahead towards Brienne’s chambers.

This was the fourth time in the past week that Brienne had fainted. Selwyn feared an infection may have slowly set in from her injuries. The child was so stubborn and refused to sit still. Jaime and Brienne spent most days in the west end, helping with the reconstruction efforts. She was running herself ragged.

As they approached the door to Brienne’s room, unofficially Brienne’s and Jaime’s room, Selwyn watched as his goodson slipped inside and shut the door. _Suppose I should wait here_.

Moments later, Sansa emerged with a curious look on her face. The young lady sat down next to Selwyn and cast a cautious smile towards him.

“How is she? Is she eating enough, truly? I imagine she certainly isn’t sleeping enough at night.” Selwyn emphasized the last statement with a mix of sarcasm and distaste that only a father could muster.

Sansa looked at him then. “Brienne doesn’t listen to anyone regarding her health. Certainly not me of all people. I believe she will be fine though.” A peculiar smile spread across the girl’s face as the maester emerged from the room.

“What of it? Is my daughter OK?”

The maester looked between the aged lord and Sansa. “Yes, my lord. She will be fine. Adequate rest, hydration, and regular meals should suffice as course of treatment.”

Selwyn felt the tension ease as he nodded thanks towards the now retreating maester. _Thank the Gods_.

Sansa indicated that she needed to beg leave to visit Arya’s room. Arya’s injuries were more severe than originally assumed. The young wolf was much better off of late, but it had been quite the recovery.

With a light knock at the door, Selwyn waited patiently despite every instinct telling him to charge in. When Jaime opened the door, Selwyn was relieved to see his daughter sitting on the balcony with a cup of water in front of her. While she did look a bit paler than usual, nothing else about her appearance suggested Selwyn should worry.

Selwyn and Jaime made their way to the balcony to join Brienne. The older man turned to study his daughter before launching into his usual tirade.

“How many times must I tell you to rest! You’re always out in the west end working tirelessly. When you’re not there, you’re in the yard stomping everyone into the ground. Do you make time to eat girl? Don’t even tell me if you’re getting enough rest. I don’t want to know anymore than I’ve already endured.”

Brienne’s faced flushed while Jaime struggled to keep from laughing. “Shut up.” Brienne muttered at Jaime in hushed tones. That only made Jaime laugh louder. _The boy has lost his wits_.

“What can I say? I am _that good_.” 

_By the seven what is this boy on about!_ Brienne swatted at Jaime before composing herself.

“Father… um… I suppose… Gods…” Brienne stammered, and her face turned crimson.

“What my lady wife is trying to say is that in reward for your _enduring us_ , the Gods have decided to ensure Tarth has a second in line for the title of Evenstar.”

Selwyn felt shock flood his body followed by the most dizzying wave of happiness. He practically lunged at the two people seated before him, engulfing them in a bear hug that Tormund Giantsbane himself would have been proud of. 

“This is wonderful! By the Gods I never thought I would live to see the day. When will I meet the little one? Come now, how could the maester be certain? It has only been a moon’s turn since the siege ended.”

Jaime beamed at his question while Brienne rolled her eyes.

“No please father. I can’t endure this conversation again!” Brienne slunk down in her chair, burying her head in her hands.

Jaime only sat up straighter, chest puffed out like a mighty lion.

“She was pregnant before the siege! Our wedding apparently. Quite the _productive_ bedding.” Jaime had a lascivious grin on his face.

Selwyn choked in shock and Brienne let out a deep groan to his left.

“You got lucky! The timing of it all that is. Gods, I should have remembered to take the damn moon tea, but what were the odds!?” Bienne spoke it to herself more than conversationally.

“No!” Both Jaime and Selwyn leveled a glare at her. Selwyn was the one to continue.

“This is a blessing girl! Don’t say that. We will have a little knight to train now. I for one can’t wait. A more than fair reward for suffering the injustice of your husband’s scrawny ass to greet me at the door.”

At that, all three couldn’t contain their laughter.

A fortnight later, the day of the wedding had arrived. Tarth’s port was packed with vessels from all of Westeros. The inns crammed with guests and Evenfall Hall stuffed to the gills. Selwyn knocked upon entering Jaime’s chambers where Tyrion was fussing with his older brother’s hair and doublet. Upon seeing Selwyn entered, the brothers turned and exchanged a warm smile with him.

Tyrion returned to attempting to matt down Jaime’s unruly hair, only to have Jaime swat his hand away in protest. “Seven hells Tyrion! Leave me be!”

Tyrion huffed in protest. “Do you want Brienne thinking she is marrying Jaime Lannister, Lion of the Rock, or Larry the peacock!?”

Jaime sighed in exasperation as Selwyn approached to look his goodson over. Jaime turned to him and put on his finest smile, throwing his arms out in dramatic flair. “How do I look?” Selwyn looked Jaime over. He wore a rich crimson doublet, black breeches, and a crimson-and-gold cloak that screamed Lannister. Widows Wail was strapped to his hip. He was freshly shaven and his golden-brown hair handsomely parted to the side.

“You’ll suffice.” Selwyn feigned nonchalance and Tyrion chimed in right after him.

“Pity you couldn’t be prettier.”

Jaime scoffed at the two and turned back to the mirror. “If the baby is a boy, I shan’t name him after either of you wretches. I am very pretty.”

“Whatever you say princess.”, Tyrion mocked; using the moniker Brienne had taken to adorning Jaime with of late. 

“Tyrion, might I have a word alone with your brother here?” Selwyn cast a kind smile to the younger brother.

“Yes gladly. I’ve been babysitting him all morning and could use a break. I’ll see you in the Sept!”

Once Tyrion had left the room, Jaime turned towards his Goodfather.

“If you’re here to remind me that evidence of the bedding ceremony is required on the morrow, I can confidently say that you won’t be disappointed with the proof I offer.” Selwyn rolled his eyes at the boy, but couldn’t quite suppress the chuckle.

“No nothing of that. Here, sit with me.”

The two sat by a table overlooking the ocean. The warm sea breeze blew through the room and ruffled each man’s hair.

“I just want to say that even though you’re already married, I am very happy to have you joining my family.” Selwyn looked out to the sea and let his mind wander. Visions of Alys dancing before him. “I see so much of myself and Alys in you and Brienne. You look at Brienne the way I was oft told that I looked at my Alys. It is something I never imagined my Brienne would find and I’m glad of it that she has.”

Jaime’s eyes were void of their usual mock and mischief and instead bore a serious expression.

“I’ll take care of her and love her always. You have my word. I don’t know what I would do without her. I would probably be a mess. Well more a mess than usual which you can imagine would be a disaster of epic proportions.”

Selwyn barked a laugh and nodded in understanding.

“I oft felt Alys was my anchor during a storm at sea. I felt adrift without her. I wish she and I had been able to have more time together with our family. I can only pray to the Seven that you and Brienne know many years with your brood.” Selwyn’s smile got wider as he continued. “Ugh. My island is going to be overrun by Lannisters. The horrors.”

The two laughed and Jaime’s look changed into one that Selwyn couldn’t quite place.

“I was thinking that they should be Tarths. The children. Brienne too should stay a Tarth.”

Selwyn looked at him in shock. “What do you mean boy?”

Jaime looked uncomfortable. “I don’t want Brienne nor the children sullied with the Lannister name. I think all of Westeros has had enough of my house. Everything my family has touched that was good has been ruined. If she bears my house’s sigil and takes my name, I worry about tarnishing her reputation. Besides, I would hate for the Tarth name to fade. I understand that your line is among the few remaining of direct line to the first men. Would be a shame to see the name fade when it is a much more noble house than my own.” Selwyn studied the boy with worry.

“I will have none of this nonsense.” Jaime snapped his head to look at Selwyn.

“Our legacy is what we make of it. Humans have an unfortunate ability to forget history. You will forge your own legacy with Brienne and that is what people will remember years from now of the Lannisters. Trying to ignore the past only does more harm. Look at my own family. We tried to bury Brienne’s lineage and it nearly killed her. She grew up unable to celebrate her mother’s side of the family for what good there was in it. Not all Targaryens are bad just as not all Lannisters are bad. You and your brother are proof enough of that. Brienne is proof enough of that.”

Jaime still looked uncertain. “Well it is still a shame to see the Tarth name fade. It seems important to Brienne. She said as much after our wedding in the North. _Brienne Lannister of Tarth_. I want her to be happy. That will make her happy.”

Selwyn’s face softened and he smiled at Jaime. “Do you really think Brienne is the first generation in all of Tarth’s lineage that has only held female heirs? Why do you suppose we say ‘of Tarth’ here? Her blood is in that child as much as yours. The Tarth lineage will not die out. I think little Selwyn Lannister of Tarth will be a fine young man.” Selwyn let out a jesting smile before continuing.

“Tarth is a different sort. My island has rich history. My people have a deep respect for that history and want to see my line live on. We are descended from the first men and were a kingdom in our own right before the Andals came conquering. Edwyn Tarth, the last Evenstar to hold the title as a Tarth king. Now history sees fit to place an Evenstar as Queen for the first time since Edwyn. And this time, a sovereign far reaching beyond our little island. I am proud of that. Proud of my Brienne. I will teach the little ones about Tarth. About their lineage and the great men and women who came before them. You will teach them of the Lannisters. Hear me roar. Ha. They must know both sides of their family if they are to know who they must become.”

Jaime nodded in understanding, but Selwyn still caught some reluctance. Perhaps a topic for another day. He understood the fear in his goodson’s heart. His own wife had feared her lineage being known to their children. Selwyn wanted something more. Something better for his grandchildren. He wanted them to know both sides; the good and the bad.

As Selwyn stood to leave he clapped Jaime’s shoulder. “You’re a fine lad Jaime Lannister. I couldn’t have chosen better so I’m glad Brienne chose you.” As he walked to the door, he heard Jaime’s voice behind his back.

“What are your house words?”

Selwyn turned and smiled. “A light in the darkness”

Jaime smiled and turned back to the ocean. “Quite fitting.”

The ceremony passed in a blur. Selwyn had been shocked to find his daughter in a gown despite Oathkeeper strapped to her side. Sansa beamed with pride at her handywork. The gown was a deep blue which complimented Brienne’s eyes beautifully. The dress was well fitted and took advantage of Brienne’s long, lean figure while creating the appearance of womanly curve. Little silver suns and moons adorned the neckline and hem. Brienne’s hair had grown longer than usual in recent months, just scraping her shoulders. Likely an oversight more than intentional decision. Brienne was quite busy with restoration work and less inclined to self-care. Sansa took advantage of the longer hair with a soft part down the middle, letting Brienne’s wavy white-blonde locks fall gently to her shoulders. It was a stark contrast to Brienne’s typical hairstyle; pushed back tightly and cropped short.

Selwyn chuckled when Sansa revealed the painstaking lengths to which she went to in order to get Brienne into a dress. The agreement was that Brienne would don a dress for the wedding, but breeches for her coronation. The condition was simple. Sansa would be Hand of the Queen.

Selwyn looked around the great feast carrying on before him. Mirth filled the hall and Selwyn felt true peace. It occurred to him that the bride and groom had gone missing.

Selwyn discretely left the hall and wondered about the castle. He assumed the pair made a hasty retreat to their chambers and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He and Alys had done the same on their wedding night.

He wandered into his office where he typically sat pouring over scrolls and books. He set to work on a design for the coronation. His attention was soon caught by the sound of clashing swords out on the yard behind him. Selwyn stood and moved towards the window, his frame still obscured by the shadows of the castle in the night. There they were, Brienne and Jaime dancing as only they knew how; swords in hand. They both smiled like two young children having escaped their septas.

He watched them for several minutes until the match ended. Brienne’s blow disarmed Jaime, but the young lion sidestepped and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into an embrace from behind. His good hand came to rest over her barely visible bump and his thumb painted loving strokes on her belly as he nuzzled her ear. They were both smiling widely as he gently spun her to press a kiss to her lips, mumbling words into her mouth as the kiss ended.

Selwyn couldn’t help but smile at the scene before turning back to his desk. _Best get to work on this. I don’t have much time._


	25. Sansa IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for Brienne's coronation. One more chapter after this. I'll probably leave it a bit open in case i come back to make a sequel (because things can't stay peaceful and uninteresting in westeros for too long)

“What do you mean you don’t like it!?” Sansa huffed in exasperation looking at Jaime.

“It’s too much… stuff.” Jaime waved his arms exaggeratedly and tugged at the fabric as though it was setting his skin aflame.

“This is a coronation! You’re just as bad as Brienne.” Sansa spun on her heel and stalked away from Jaime towards the fabrics she had spread on the bed.

“Why can’t I just wear my normal clothing? I’m not the one getting crowned. I’m just the pretty accessory Brienne gets to adorn on her arm.” Jaime’s tone was riddled with sarcasm.

 _Seven hells these two will be the death of me_. “Just humor me. It is bad enough your wife insists on wearing breeches to her own coronation. I don’t need you showing up half dressed and filthy from the training yard.”

Jaime scoffed. “I would not show up filthy. Only half dressed.” A mischievous smile tugged at his lips.

Sansa made to reply, but was caught off guard by the chamber door slamming open and an angry Brienne striding in, Tyrion hot on her heels rambling about something which had clearly been the source of her mood.

“Seven hells woman slow down! Your legs are longer than my entire body.” Tyrion sounded as though he would die of exertion.

Brienne took one look at Jaime, came to a halt, and let out a barking laugh. “What is that!?”

Jaime looked at Sansa in the mirror and smirked. “I told you!”

Sansa threw up her hands and looked to Tyrion. “A little help here!?”

Tyrion sighed and looked to Jaime. “Jaime honestly, could you please cooperate this once? The outfit is perfectly fine; very… regal.” Tyrion’s eyes betrayed his words.

Sansa looked in the mirror again, taking appraisal of her work. The shirt was a kingly gold with a standing rucked collar and pearl buttons. Down the front was a three-tiered cascading ruffle and sheered long sleeves ending with pearl buttons at ruffled cuffs. He did look like quite the fluffed-up tart.

Brienne snorted. “Yes, very _regal_. You look stunning princess. Is it meant to look like he is wearing handkerchiefs all about his neck and arms?” Brienne moved to tug on the fabric while barely suppressing a laugh.

Sansa swatted away Brienne’s hand in irritation. “It is in style! Very popular in Essos amongst nobles these days.”

“Does it matter that we are in Westeros? Look wench, I can use them to wipe the drool that oft late pours from your agape mouth while you sleep through council meetings.” Brienne and Jaime couldn’t contain themselves any longer and were doubled over in laughter.

“Fine! Have it your way. Both of you can show up in nothing for all I care.” Sansa stormed back to the bed, yanking back the crimson fabric she had just draped over Jaime’s right shoulder.

“Well it will certainly make the post-coronation celebration easier.” Jaime retorted in a devilish tone, giving Brienne a wink.

Tyrion grunted and gave Sansa a look of apology on behalf of his brother’s crassness. Turning back to Brienne and Jaime, Tyrion inhaled and took to pressing the very dialogue which had sent Brienne into her previous tizzy.

“Now listen, we have to settle this. You simply can’t make this change. The longer-tenured Queensguard will take issue with it”

Brienne turned back to him, frustration returning to her face. “Then they can retire.”

“Queensguard serve for life. It is tradition.” Tyrion practically begged her to see reason, but Sansa knew better than him that it was a lost cause. There was little that Brienne wished to override her council members on, but when it came to knightly codes or the Queensguard, she brokered no argument.

“Really? Ask your brother how that worked out for him.”

Tyrion threw up his hands in resignation. “Fine. Have it your way. I truly don’t understand why you’ve made me Master of Laws if you keep overriding my laws, but whatever you say… _Your Grace_.”

Jaime looked between the two in confusion, brow furrowed. “What is this about?”

Brienne turned to Jaime and summarized the debate. “I want to update the rule so that Queensguard may marry and elect to retire on their own terms. Your brother wishes to keep them unwed and serving for life.”

Jaime’s brows rose in surprise and he looked to Tyrion. “Brienne’s rule is better.”

Tyrion barked a laugh. “Of course you agree with your wife! Why do I bother?”

“Tell me about it. The two of them are ridiculous and impossible to deal with. I don’t know why either of us bother.” At that, Sansa and Tyrion gave each other a soft look that did not go unnoticed by Brienne and Jaime.

Sansa turned back and gathered up the fabrics in her arms. “Well I need to take care of some things before the council meeting. I’ll you see then. And Ser Jaime…”

Sansa turned to see Jaime playfully wiping invisible snot from Brienne’s nose. He quickly lowered his arm behind his back in an apparent play to not be seen insulting he work.

“Wear the shirt to the meeting. We will take a vote… by order of the hand.” She smirked as she strode out of the room, knowing behind her would be a slack jawed knight with worry etched on his face.

Hours later, Sansa strode into the small council chambers to find she was nearly the last to arrive. Not surprisingly, only Jaime and Brienne were missing. Under normal circumstances, a consort would not be included in small council meetings, but when then consort is Ser Jaime Lannister that is a decidedly different story. Ser Jaime was fittingly made Master of War. As much as Jaime could be a distraction during the council, Sansa could not take away the face that he had one of the best military minds she had ever encountered. Begrudgingly, she accepted his presence even if somewhat without use of late given the state of peace across the kingdoms. 

Sansa took her usual seat at the head of the table and looked to her fellow council members. Ser Davos was named Master of Ships. Varys was Master of Whisperers. Tyrion was Master of Laws. Samwell Tarly was named Grand Maester. Sansa thought it an odd appointment given he isn’t an actual maester, but then again the man cured Ser Jorah of greyscale and seemed rather learned.

Greyworm, who surprisingly elected to stay in Westeros with Missandei, was named Lord Commander of the Queensguard. Sansa was surprised to hear of Greyworm’s decision to stay as most of the Unsullied elected to return to the Free Cities with the Second Sons and Dothraki. When Greyworm told Brienne he was staying, she immediately asked him to become Lord Commander. Sansa didn’t think she had ever seen the Unsullied commander smile as wide as he did that day.

The most intriguing appointment of all however was Lady Genna Lannister as Master of Coin. Sansa had heard of Lady Genna, Tywin’s sister, but wasn’t quite prepared for the woman when they met a fortnight ago at Jaime’s and Brienne’s wedding. Based on reputation alone, it struck Sansa as logical to name a Lannister as Master of Coin, but deep down she was fearful of another Lannister in King’s Landing. Sansa was already struggling with the ghosts of her past that haunted her in the Keep, but to have an unknown, living Lannister this close to her was disconcerting to say the least.

Jaime and Tyrion had insisted that Genna was not one of ‘those Lannisters’. That yes, she had Tywin’s commanding presence and had a habit of becoming overbearing, but she was kind. Jaime described her as the only kin, aside from Tyrion, whom he liked. After a few small council meetings with Genna, Sansa decided she quite enjoyed the woman. Mostly because she was intelligent, blunt, commanding, and a royal pain in the ass to her nephews. Apparently, the brothers forgot how annoying she could be. She tormented the two and Sansa loved her even more for it.

“For the love of the seven where is my nephew and his wife!? Tyrion, Gods be good get your brother under control. Constantly humping at Brienne like a rabbit. They’re probably ‘sparring’ again.”

“Aunt Genna, are you asking me to reprimand the Queen and her consort for having relations because you want to start the meeting ten minutes early?”

“If you’re not early, you’re late! I have things to do. Your cousin is probably doing Gods knows what as acting castellan of the Rock in my absence and I need to write him instructions.”

“Aunt Genna please. You have to stop sending ravens to the Rock. You sent four just yesterday alone. Daven will be fine. The Rock will be fine.”

“Says you! Did you tell my brother all would be fine as you shot an arrow into his chest while he sat on the privy!?”

“Oh Gods not this again. Aunt Genna, we’ve had this conversation several times over. I told you..” Before Tyrion could continue, the doors opened and Jaime and Brienne came striding in. 

“Well its about time!” Barked Genna. Brienne gave Jaime a quizzical look (likely considering they were several minutes early) to which Jaime only shook his head signaling Brienne to just ignore the outburst.

The pair sat down and Jaime took his usual reclined position in the chair, kicking his legs out under the table and throwing his hands behind his head.

“Shall we start with the update from the Master at Arms?” Jaime began. “A very serious act of war was declared against the crown today. The prince consort was held against his will by a vile wolf and tortured for hours on end. Stuffed into some hideous gold napkins.” With a dramatic show, Jaime stood and tore off his doublet revealing the offending attire.

Genna let out a loud guffaw and Tyrion and Brienne snorted in unison. Davos, Sam, and Varys looked downright horrified. Greyworm wrinkled his nose. “What is this?” the Unsullied asked with barely concealed distaste.

“This my good man is the finest of garments. All the rage in Essos. _Very regal_.” Jaime declared with thinly veiled sarcasm. He then began spinning, posturing, and preening like a peacock for the small council members. 

_I must not laugh. This is not funny._ Sansa cleared her throat and spoke. “Ser Jaime here fails to understand the importance of kingly attire for the coronation. I have agreed to help him dress more appropriately which as well all know, is quiet the undertaking. I believe a vote is in order on the garment in question. I feel it is quite becoming and appropriate.”

From beside Jaime, Brienne smirked and looked to poor, sweet Pod who stood at guard against the door. Brienne had knighted Pod after the siege and appointed him to the Queensguard.

“Pod. What do you think?” Brienne could barely surprise the mirth from her voice and bit back a laugh. The other members of the council lowered their eyes to disguise the laughter in their eyes. Poor Pod started stammering from the corner.

“Yes Pod. What do you think? Do I look sexy in his kingly attire?” Jaime’s tone was teasing as he looked at the knight who clearly wanted nothing to do with the conversation.

“I… ummm… yes my lady… my grace ser.” Brienne was chuckling now.

Brienne and Jaime looked to each other and without missing a beat, both let out a long, exaggerated “Ohhhhhhhh” at Pod’s reaction. 

“My Gods boy. That thing is atrocious. Get rid of it.” Genna dismissed him with a wave of the hand.

“So my only takers are Pod and Sansa? Really? No one else?” Jaime feigned disappointment looking from one council member to the next. At that, Sansa could no longer stifle her launch.

“Fine, you win. You don’t have to wear it.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jaime tore the offending shirt off his body and sat down topless, feet stretched back out under the table.

“Well that is my only report for the day. Please do continue.”

“Have some decency boy! Put on a tunic!” Genna rolled her eyes and glared at Jaime.

The council concluded nearly an hour later. Much had been accomplished under Sansa’s directive and as usual, Brienne thanked her endlessly. Brienne truly despised politics and Sansa knew that about her friend. Sansa understood that Brienne wanted nothing more than to be in the yard training.

Sans was surprised however at the amount of wonderful ideas Brienne had. She was very engaged in the meetings despite Jaime’s earlier jests that she was not. Brienne helped put into place some very forward-thinking laws and revisions to outdated law. She was just as Sansa had expected, but also held true to her convictions and didn’t let things slide. Sansa went to bed that night thinking she made the best decision by agreeing to be hand of the Queen. She and Brienne could truly help make Westeros a better place for all citizens; particularly women.

The next day, Sansa rose to the sun shining brightly through the window. It was the day of the Coronation and the city was abuzz with energy. She dressed for the day in a smart dress and made her way to the throne room to ensure everything was in place. They had done away with that wretched throne after the siege. Brienne thought it ridiculous and unnecessary. Sansa spoke with various attendants about the seating that should be placed in the room. She spoke with guards and staff about ensuring guests were directed to the appropriate places and kept out of the restricted areas.

Within a couple of hours, the throne room was packed with guests. All the noble houses were represented, but it was important to Brienne that the citizens were given as much access to the day’s festivities as the nobility. An entire section was set aside from anyone who might want to come in from the streets. What they didn’t anticipate was just how many people wanted to watch the coronation. People had started lining up before first light for the chance at a seat. Those who didn’t make it in, crowded outside the palace to the area where Brienne and Jaime would be ushered to after the ceremony to present themselves before the city. It was a wall of humanity. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the new Queen and her consort.

Sansa was delighted to see that both Jaime and Brienne entered the throne room looking more than presentable for their station. Brienne wore what could have passed for a dress given the knee length cut, fitted waist and bodice, but underneath Sansa could see the form fitting silver breeches. The top was cut flatteringly and suited Brienne’s physique nicely. It was a light blue ensemble which complimented her skin tone wonderfully. Perhaps it was the pregnancy, but she was truly glowing. Brienne had her armed tucked into Jaime’s side as he guided her down the aisle. He looked the part of a Tarth. A deep blue doublet with light blue stitching that matched Brienne’s top. He wore a pair of brown breeches and a silver cape that complemented Brienne’s breeches. They truly looked breathtaking. _They certainly haven’t done this themselves_. Sansa turned to observe Aunt Genna beaming and realized who had _helped_ them.

The ceremony moved relatively quickly, and a crown was placed atop Brienne’s head. Sansa could sense Brienne’s discomfort at the attention, but Jaime remained at her side which seemed to ease her tension. As Brienne stood from her seat once the crown was positioned, Jaime rose next to her and Tyrion announced the new Queen. The Tarth banners fell in unison throughout the hall, but to Sansa’s surprise, they had been altered. She looked to Brienne and Jaime who looked out in awe at the banners. They both must have known who made the changes because they immediately looked to Selwyn who was seated in the front row.

Selwyn was smiling at the couple who smiled back, but Sansa observed that it was Jaime who was most moved by the display and a silent conversation seemed to pass between him and his goodfather. 

The Tarth banner which had a quartered pattern with moons and suns now had sewn into the middle the Lannister lion. Sansa was amazed at how beautifully the two sigils came together. The couple was then moved out for Brienne to present herself before the crowds gathered outside. The queen came face to face with her people. The people who chose her.


	26. Jaime VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end! When I originally did the outline, I thought this would be 12 chapters (ha!), but I just couldn't control myself. I left the end open as I have some big ideas for a sequel. I don't know when I might start part 2 as i have a couple of other J/B stories outlined.

Jaime lay awake in the early morning light, his right arm under Brienne’s pillow and his left flung over her hip as he molded his body behind hers. He often had to remind himself where he was when he awoke. He had lived in King’s Landing for most of his life and prior to this bliss with Brienne, the majority of his years in the keep had not been as pleasant. From serving the mad king and enduring his insanity, to suffering through Robert’s drunken leadership and scurrying off for secret trysts with his sister, to then avoiding that same sister as though it was his sole job when she was crowned queen and the madness took her.

Jaime had to smile to himself thinking how differently things were compared to the last time he and Brienne were in King’s Landing some years ago. She was a ‘guest’ of the crown after returning him from the Riverlands; one hand less than when he left. In those brief weeks, Jaime feared for her safety. Cersei did little to mask her disdain for Brienne and Tywin was nonplussed at his son’s insistence that they give Brienne guest quarters and free roam of the castle despite openly admitting herself to be Cateyln Stark’s sworn sword.

Brienne stirred slightly against him and Jaime moved his hand to her belly, tracing lazy circles on her growing bump. She was roughly 5 months along now. The moment they found out about the baby, Jaime had been over the moon with joy. He would finally get to be a real father. To claim his children publicly. To dote on them and teach them how to swing a sword. To impart knowledge on them. To share warm embraces and bedtimes stories about their mother and a bear. To teach them the little ways to get a rise out of their mother; one of his favorite pastimes. _It’s a long way to King’s Landing. Might as well get to know one another_.

Without warning, Brienne rolled over to face him, eyes fluttering open and hands reaching out to his chest. Jaime leaned in and plated a kiss on her. “Good morning your grace.”

“Good morning princess.” Brienne replied with a sleepy smirk.

As Brienne opened her eyes more fully, Jaime found himself as he always did. Awestruck at her beautiful, honest, warm eyes. Jaime oft found himself contemplating how this was real and he got to be so lucky. He lunged for her lips, deepening the kiss this time and slowly rolling on top of her. Within moments, he felt his cock spring to life and Brienne’s legs part to welcome him. They rocked together slowly as he trailed kisses all over her jaw, nose, and lips. By far his favorite way to start the day.

Later that morning, Jaime had training to oversee. Having Greyworm around to act as Lord Commander of the Queensguard was wonderful as it left Jaime free to take on the role of Master of War. A perfect role considering how little there was to do which meant more time to pester Brienne. This also afforded Jaime opportunity to take on his side project; working with the victims from the west end.

He trained maimed children, adolescents, and young adults on weaponry and self-defense. He taught them how to adjust to life after the loss of a limb. The youth adored Jaime and it made him lament the lack of bonding with his deceased children, but at the same time, excitedly anticipate what was to come with the family he and Brienne were building.

One girl in particular had fast become his favorite pupil. She was a girl of roughly ten and one. She was tall for her age, stubborn, and confident. Reminded Jaime of a certain someone whom he treasured deeply. The girl had lost her left leg in the blast and had slipped into a bit of depression for the first few months in life after the siege. When family encouraged her to join Jaime’s training program with others from her area of the city, she took to it like a fish in water. She was constantly besting the boys and shutting them up quite soundly when they japed at her. The japes were never distasteful as Jaime shut that down very quickly, but he could tell that like Brienne, this young girl was accustomed to fending for herself.

As Jaime was correcting one of the girl’s techniques, he heard the voice of Bran Stark behind him. Bran had stayed behind the city to help Sam create prosthetic devices for the crippled children and adults. Today however was to be Bran’s last day in King’s Landing for some time. _There must always be a Stark in Winterfell._

“Ser Jaime.” Bran’s even gaze settled on Jaime from across the yard. “When you are done, I was hoping to have a word.” Jaime nodded and looked back to his students to end the lessons for the day. Striding over to Bran, Jaime quirked a smile at the boy. As time went on after the Long Night, the three-eyed raven seemed to become more Bran with each passing day. The boy still had powers that Jaime couldn’t begin to comprehend, but where there was once clarity and conviction in Bran’s words was now a layer of uncertainty.

“What can I do for you my lord.”

Bran smiled facetiously at Jaime. “Know any nice weirwoods around here?”

Jaime smiled at that. “Yes, but you’re wheelchair can’t pass the grounds to get there. I’ll need to carry you. Don’t worry, I won’t _drop you_.” Jaime’s smile was playful as Bran’s smile deepened and they continued their usual game.

“Of course. You’re rather _handy_ like that.”

The two set off towards the sole weirwood within the capital. It was a place Jaime never frequented over his years at king’s landing given he was raised in the faith of the Seven. Jaime did recall seeing Ned Stark and Sansa Stark wondering the grounds to the weirdwood during their time in the capital those years back.

While Bran spent some time before the tree, eyes rolled back in an eerie silence, Jaime continued thinking back to different times in the gardens. A smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as he recalled one of his conversations with Brienne, overlooking Sansa on a terrace below. “Are you sure we’re not related?” he had said mockingly. “You’ve got the hair for it if not the looks.”

Bran’s eyes suddenly rolled forward.

“Missing your weirwood at home? Will it consider this infidelity on your part? Tsk tsk Bran Stark.”

Bran rolled his eyes at Jaime and then looked back at he tree. His words were wistful. “You do well training the crippled. I always wanted to be a knight myself.”

At that, Jaime felt a darkening in his soul and shame wash over him. “I am truly sorry of that. I know you said before you weren’t angry, but you should be. I deserved death for doing that.”

“You were protecting your family.” Bran then smiled almost to himself. “There is nothing more hateful than failing to protect the ones you love.”

Jaime gave the boy an odd look, but Bran only continued.

“I wanted to be a knight, but it wasn’t my destiny. You needed to push me from that tower so that I could become more. I had to lose a part of myself to become something more. Same as you.”

Jaime sighed and looked away from Bran. “If it was your destiny, I would have preferred someone else partake in getting you to it. I wish I had not pushed you.”

Bran looked at Jaime. Brown eyes met green eyes. “You didn’t need to push me from the tower for me to become the three-eyed raven. Fate would have found another way. You had to push me from the tower to become the man you were always meant to be. To become the man who brought the Princess Who was Promised to the Long Night. Were it not for you pushing me and setting off a particular chain of events, you would never have met Brienne. Brienne would never have met my mother. Brienne would never have left Tarth to serve Renly. Brienne would have been forced to wed on Tarth, to someone who would be… less than kind to her. Humanity would have fallen.”

Jaime gasped as though someone had run him through with a sword. Jaime could feel himself staring at Bran, but before he could conjure words to reply, he heard people approaching behind him. Tryion and Brienne.

“What are you two doing out here? The guards said they watched you come this way.” Brienne plopped down on the grown, groaning at the exertion as her growing belly made even the most mundane tasks cumbersome.

Jaime smirked at her. “Cripple talk. You wouldn’t understand what with you two hands and working legs.”

Tyrion sat down to Bran’s right side and looked over at their little group, huddled on the ground before a weirdwood tree.

“Well don’t we make quite the group. An imp, a legless boy, a one-handed knight, and a..” Jaime glared at Tyrion and cut him off “Careful brother.”

Tyrion looked affronted and then smiled mockingly. “What!? I was going to say a warrior queen.”

Brienne rolled her eyes at her goodbrother and the four sat in contended silence for some time before making small talk. Near an hour later, Brienne slowly pushed to her feet. “Well Sansa was looking for you my lord. She wants to enjoy your final meal in the capital before you set off on the morrow. Shall I bring you back?”

Bran looked up at the knight with a small smile. “I will be there monetarily. Ser Jaime will bring me back within the hour.” As Tyrion and Brienne made their way back towards the castle, Jaime and Bran sat a bit longer in front of the great tree. Suddenly Bran broke the silence.

“I know you worry about her. I know you think back to your mother her mother dying in the birthing bed.”

Jaime was again shocked at the boy’s words. “Brandon Stark. Just how much of my private time in bed with my wife are you watching?”

Bran laughed loudly at that. “Don’t worry. Not much to see.”

Both smiled broadly and feel back into silence. Then Bran continued. “I can’t see as much as I used to. I do see her holding a babe. I _think_ I see more babes to come, but there other things I see clearer. Darker things. Brienne will need you for what else will come to pass.”

Jaime cast an inquisitive, concerned look at Bran who had turned back to the tree.

“What is dead may never die.”


End file.
